


Back Again

by Quido



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cooperation Between Races, Fix-It of Sorts, Hitting the reset button, Multi, Strong Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-13 14:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7980319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quido/pseuds/Quido
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 'Fix-it' tale, where I explore some ideas about what The Hobbit might be like with some added Skills for key characters, Blessings from their Gods, and Memories of what could be. With a point that additional cooperation between the free races of Men, Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits would make it more difficult for the powers of Darkness to gain such a foothold in the years leading up to the Lord of the Rings Saga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Thorin, child of Thrain, son of Thrór, I would speak with you.”

The voice that addressed him was both thunderous and quiet, Thorin could feel it vibrate through his bones while it wrapped around him in the most comforting of caresses. The pains of his wounds seeped away and Thorin felt like he was on a bed of softest down, yet he knew that his body lay broken on a hard cot in the tents of healing, only recently removed from the field of battle at Erebor. Then Thorin knew that the wounds he'd received had been fatal, only if he lay before Mahal, creator of all Dwarves, would he gain such relief from pain.

“Thorin, you have a choice before you. You may join me in my Halls to await the rebuilding of the world with your ancestors, or I have been permitted to offer you a chance.”

Thorin slowly turned his face toward the voice, he dared not open his eyes as the light beyond glowed like the flame at the heart of the hottest forge, as he whispered hoarsely, “A chance?”

“Yes, a chance. There are dark times ahead for Arda and troubles that can be eased with the support of my children, but only if the course of history is changed.”

“What must I do Mahal? I am yours to command.”

Thorin could feel the god smile at his words, “My child, there have always been reasons that Durin, founder of the Longbeards awoke alone. Durin's children were meant to work among the other founder's lines to bring the Dwarves together, and from there to form treaties and alliances with the other peoples of Arda.”

“Other peoples?” Thorin asked in confusion.

“Dwarves were meant to work alongside Men, Hobbits and Elves, not isolate themselves within their Halls and Holds.”

“Why?”

“To ensure a place in the world to come Dwarves cannot pass forgotten from this one; their acts and deeds must be known; their works of stone and metal freely seen; their stories must be shared among Men; their songs sung in the halls of Elves.

“One of Sauron's greatest victories was to curse the Rings of Power given to the Kings of Men and Dwarves. The curse turned drive into greed, and feelings of trust into suspicion and paranoia. The Kings of Men were consumed by their lust for power and knowledge of things arcane, while my children turned away from the world above ground. Dwarves lost sight of how the gifts I gave them were for the benefit of all, the wit and wisdom of their Kings falling under feelings of greed for wealth and treasure. In arrogance Dwarves have come to act as though they are first among peoples, forgetting that while it is by my hand they were forged, it is only by the grace of Eru Ilúvatar that they were allowed their own place in the world.”

“But... How am I to change that?”

“Peace Thorin, I will not leave you to bear such a large burden alone. If you accept my charge, and do your best with the chance I offer, you will have both assistance and time to bring my children back into the minds and hearts of all the peoples of Arda.”

Thorin sighed with relief, “I promise, I will do my best.”

Mahal smiled again, pleased that Thorin had accepted his offer, “I know you will child. I leave you now with a warning. Remember your past, and that of your ancestors. Learn from it, and be wary of old prejudices. I have cleaned the taint of gold sickness from your mind, and from now on you and your kin will be protected from it. Realize Thorin, that your greatest concerns may matter very little to others. You are the leader of your Clan and have earned the respect and devotion of the Dwarrow who follow you. Just remember that often the easiest way to gain the respect of others is to show them respect first.”

The voice and presence surrounding Thorin slowly faded. As the bright light beyond his eyelids dimmed Thorin became aware of his body once more. Surprisingly he felt no pain from his recent wounds, only a cold breeze tickling across the bare skin of his shoulders and back. Reflexively he tried to burrow deeper into his pillow and blankets to escape the chill. The unexpected lack of pain, combined with the feeling of cold air against his skin drove all thoughts of rest from Thorin's mind. Startled, he rolled and tipped himself off the edge of his bed, yelping as he landed on the hard flagstone floor in a tangle of limbs and bed clothes. Mere moments later there was a quick knock as the door to the room was thrust open, revealing the form of his sister Dís.

“Thorin, are you alright?” Dís called as her eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on Thorin as he tried to untangle the twisted sheets and blankets. “What are you doing on the floor?”

Thorin rolled his eyes, “What does it look like?”

Smirking Dís answered, “Well, it looks like you fell out of bed.”

Huffing in exasperation Thorin finally freed himself from his blankets and picked himself up from the floor. Looking around he recognized the room as the one he'd had in their cabin at Thorin's Hall, the settlement in Ered Luin where he had lived before his adventure to reclaim Erebor. The room was not large, the wardrobe, washstand, bed and storage chest at its foot left only enough space for Thorin to walk a short five paces before reaching the door.

Dís shook her head as Thorin got up and looked about the room. “Since you seem to be fine, I'll be in the kitchen. You've got a little while before I call the boys for breakfast if you'd like to take advantage of the bath.”

Thorin gave a non-committal grunt as he settled his blankets back on the bed and turned to sort out his clothing for the day.

“I expect you'll be at the forge again today? Drími told me yesterday that she expects the river ice to break soon if the temperature stays like it has been for the past few days. Dwarrows have been bringing the winter work down from the smelters so that we'll be ready for the first barges arriving from Bridgeport.” Dís continued as Thorin gathered up his clothes and bath supplies.

Thorin was thankful for his sister's continuing speech as it helped him figure out just when Mahal had sent him back. If the river ice had yet to break then it would be early in February, as long as it was the same year the company journeyed to Erebor. Thorin recalled that before Mahal had sent him back, he had spent this past winter fretting over the rumors that his father, Thrain, had been sighted in Dunland. Thorin had heard them too late in the fall to consider chasing them down as the first heavy snow of the season came right on the heels of the traders who had brought the news. Thorin also remembered that there was an order of swords and daggers he had escorted to Lunehurst before heading to Dunland. Returning through Bree in the middle of March, once he’d found that the rumors were only that, where he had met up with Tharkûn and received the information which began his quest. “Yes, I should be at the forge for most of the day, although I'm thinking that this afternoon I'm going to see if Dwalin is available for a spar. I might visit the Bath House at the springs before coming home for dinner.”

“I'll bring you lunch about midday, and you can invite Dwalin and Balin over for dinner tonight if you'd like. We've got venison stew and I'll be baking today.” Dís mentioned as she left Thorin's room to return to the kitchen.

It wasn't long before Thorin found himself at his forge, he was pleased to note that the order he'd been working on neared completion, and should be ready in plenty of time to make the first run down river to Lunehurst. Looking over the completed blades before him, Thorin tisked in shame. While most were adequate they were far from being the kind of quality expected from a Dwarven smithy. Not knowing exactly how much time he had before the first barges arrived, Thorin resolved to first complete the order, before going back and reworking the worst ones. There were several he was tempted to throw right back to the smelters, and forget he'd ever made them.

Falling back into the rhythm of his work Thorin was surprised at how calm he felt and how good it was to work with the metal. Today every hammer strike fell true. The color of the fire in his forge was steady and the steel sang under his hands. When Dís brought him a loaf of fresh baked bread at midday Thorin caught himself grinning as he hadn't done in years. Seeing the stunned look on his sister's face Thorin quickly realized that his current behavior would be markedly different from how he acted just yesterday from Dís' perspective. However, Thorin also found that he couldn't help himself, working at his forge today brought him a feeling of joy that had been missing from his life since before Erebor fell to Smaug.

“Thorin, are you feeling well?” Dís asked as she put his meal on a clear section of his workbench.

“Yes, I'm feeling quite well today.” Thorin answered, “The metal is being particularly cooperative this morning. Why do you ask?”

“It's just...” Dís paused and Thorin could see her gathering her thoughts and choosing her words, “I've not seen that expression on your face since before Frerin died...”

Thorin paused, had it truly been so long since he had enjoyed his work? Thinking back he had to admit that Dís was correct, he had not truly smiled since his brother died at Azanulibizar. It had even been longer than that since he had felt satisfaction or pleasure while working at his forge. In the final years before Smaug came to Erebor, Thrór's madness had affected them all, pushing everyone to put all of their effort into amassing wealth for the treasury. It was only now, freed from the gold madness by Mahal, that Thorin could look back and see the effect of the lingering taint he had unknowingly carried in his mind. Dís stirred, bringing Thorin's mind back to the present. He could see that his contemplations had taken enough time to make his sister uncomfortable. Checking to make sure that nothing in the forge required his immediate attention, Thorin grabbed a clean rag to wipe his hands and face before moving over to Dís and grasping her shoulders as he rested his forehead against hers.

“I am fine,” Thorin spoke gently. “I can't say why today my heart feels lighter than it has in years, but that is the only explanation I have for how I feel right now.”

Dís gave him a wry smile, “Well I hope that this feeling stays with you. I've missed this brother of mine.”

Thorin chuckled as a thought crossed his mind, “So, how do you think Dwalin will react when I spar with him later?”

“With you acting like this? I wouldn't be surprised if he dragged you home and fetched Óin to check you over for a head injury.” Dís answered with a snort.

“Then I shall have to try to restrain myself, but I doubt I will succeed. Quite honestly, I feel like a great weight has been lifted from me.”

“Is it because I mentioned that Drími thinks the river will open soon? Do you think that this time you'll be successful when you go out to follow after word of our father?” Dís asked, an edge of fear in her voice that caused Thorin to realize that she might well be considering that he was starting to show signs of mental instability similar to what had affected both is father and grandfather.

“No, while I am looking forward to being able to trade with Bridgeport and Lunehurst again, it is not because I plan to chase rumors of where our father might be. I cannot continue to chase after every rumor that Thrain has been sighted in some far off place. It has now been ninety five years since he was last seen by Dwarrow outside of Mirkwood, and he was not young when he left on that journey. This year would mark his 296th year and you know as well as I that exceptionally few Dwarrow who are without their One survive that long.”

Dís nodded, “When you spell it out like that, I can only agree that there is only a slight chance that he does not reside in the Halls of Mahal, yet my heart still wishes to see him under this sun once more.”

Thorin gave Dís' forehead a gentle bump and pulled away, “Enough of this, I would like to enjoy the meal you've brought me, finish the piece I was working on and then hunt down Dwalin for that spar.”

“Then I shall leave you to it, and see you this evening for dinner.”  
Thorin gave Dís a parting smile as she left the forge. He ate his meal and turned back to the steel, quickly finishing the blade he was working on. Banking the coals Thorin wiped his hands on a rag and gathered up his tunic. Leaving his forge he walked over to the training grounds where he figured that Dwalin would be finishing up his daily work with the newest members of the town guard. 

Thorin spent a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon crashing back and forth across the training field with Dwalin. As evening began to fall they acquired several observers who hadn’t seen Thorin fight for what he realized was several seasons. As their sparing progressed, Thorin also realized that he had been overly optimistic in his assessment of his condition as Dwalin proceeded to pound him into the dirt. ‘Just one more thing to work on before speaking with Tharkûn.’ he thought to himself as he signaled Dwalin to finish the match. The spectators gave the pair of them a round of applause as they left the training ground to gather their shirts and tunics and headed for the baths. Dís would not feed them if they showed up at her table in the state they were.

The Baths were, in part, why Thorin’s Hall was built where it was. They were formed from part of a complex of natural hot springs which then flowed to join the Little Lune River. It didn’t take much work to build a rather sumptuous bath as a place for all Dwarrow to relax at the end of their labors. Just about every Dwarrow who lived in the surrounding hills would make a weekly visit to the baths, and those living closer would visit almost every day. Dwalin and Thorin quickly stripped and scrubbed before moving into the baths to enjoy a hot soak.

At the baths they joined several of the miners who had come down from the slopes with their loads of ingots for the barges. Thorin noticed Bifur and Bofur were present, and remembered that the miners turned toymakers had peen part of the company who had journeyed to Erebor. This turned Thorin’s mind to how exactly he was going to gather the members of his company this time around. Last time he had been so pressed for time Thorin had been reduced to taking the first Dwarrows who had replied positively to his plea before the community. This time Thorin knew that he would be most comfortable with the same group, but he didn’t have a clue about how to get them together and start preparing them for the journey before his conversation with Tharkûn on the fifteenth of March. Thorin was coming to a realization that he couldn’t keep the fact that Mahal sent him back to the beginning of his quest to return his people to Erebor to himself, he would need support from Dwarrow close to him and that meant revealing Mahal’s charge to at least Dís, Dwalin and Balin.

Once they were well soaked and clean Dwalin and Thorin made to leave the baths. As he exited the water Thorin rested his hand on a portion of the raw stone as he heaved himself out of the water. When his skin made contact with the stone Thorin froze as his mind was filled with Mahal’s presence.

“I’ve been hearing your concerns about how to gather your company together. You are one of my children, remember the gifts that I gave my people to speak to Arda.” Mahal whispered before fading. In Mahal’s place Thorin could suddenly hear the stone beneath his hand, chuckling from having the water of the spring flowing across it. He could feel the flow of the water bubbling up from the chambers far below where the core of the planet heated it and pushed it toward the surface. Shocked Thorin yanked his hand away and tumbled back into the bath. Vaguely he could hear the other Dwarrow surging around him in reaction to his fall. Thorin could feel his shoulders being lifted to keep his head above water. Then he heard Bofur’s voice rumble at his back.

“Is this the first time?”

“First time for what?” Dwalin asked as he splashed back into the pool.

“First time for him to hear stone talking.”

“What? Thorin’s never heard stone talk. There were a few stories of his great grandfather having the skill, but Thorin never showed that talent.” 

“Then he’s a late bloomer, ‘cause it’s ringing through him now. Best get a blanket, we’ll get him out of the water, dry him off and help carry him home. Bifur and I will visit him in the morning and get him started on learning how to listen to what he needs to hear and ignore the rest.”

“Ignore the rest?”

“Yeah, if you can’t learn how to do that then the stones, rocks and dirt will yammer at you all day. It has driven Dwarrow mad before.”

Thorin felt himself be lifted from the water, toweled off and wrapped in a blanket before being carried.

Dwalin, Bofur and Bifur carried Thorin back to the cabin he shared with Dís. He barely registered on his surroundings as they put him in bed, his head filled with the sound of murmuring stone. Thorin’s forehead creased in worry as he vaguely heard Dís’ concern after the events from the Baths were relayed to her.

“Will he be alright?” Dís asked.

“Oh sure, he’ll need a few days to learn how to sort it all out, but Master Thorin is a strong willed Dwarrow. I have no doubt he’ll become a fine Stonetalker. Best thing right now is to let him sleep and give everything a chance to calm down. All the stones and rocks about here are excited that someone new can understand what they have to say. Since his talent woke up in the Baths a lot more know of the event than if say Master Thorin’s ability had started in a field or some such.”

“Why is that?” Dwalin asked.

“‘cause water carries messages. The water from the Baths flows through and over stone all the way to the Little Lune, all the stones along that route heard Master Thorin’s talent wake up.” Bofur explained.

“Can you tell us anything else about this talent?” Dís asked.

“Well, it will take a few days for the shine to wear off and the rocks to settle. Until then Master Thorin will find it distracting at the very least. He works in the forge up at the Keep right?” Bofur asked, then continued as the others agreed, “It will be best if he tries to work. That will help him understand what rock and metal can tell him. He should have someone to keep an eye on him until he gets less distracted. It wouldn’t do to gain a new Stonetalker only to lose them to an injury that could be prevented.”

“What should we be looking out for?” Dwalin asked.

“Well, when my talent woke, I needed to touch everything. For days I ran about barefoot, so I could hear the ground below. My Ma would have to send Bombur out to search the pastures and fields for me in the evenings ‘cause I’d gotten distracted by an outcrop or boulder. I didn’t have anyone to help me interpret what I was hearing until cousin Bifur returned from the battle that put the axe in his head. Then I had to learn Khudzul, I mean really learn it. Turns out that Old Khudzul is the best language to speak through stone with. That and its the only language Bifur is capable of speaking now. There aren’t too many Stonespeakers left in Ered Luin, most of the stone here is too tired. Dwarrow have lived in these mountains and hills since the First Age and most of her resources have been mined out. Much was gone well before we lost the Dwarf Holds of Nogrod and Belegost during the breaking of the world at the end of the War of Wrath. Only Stonetalkers who can sense the fractures in stone, tell good rock from bad, hear the murmur of iron and lesser metals, the faint chime of quartz and geodes, the muttering of water as it moves through cracks in stone, the whisper of air flowing through natural caves, and the deep thrum of the fires held deep below the surface have stayed here. These days its a good thing that Bifur and I have a talent for toy making, as the other Stonetalkers around here feel that I’m too young, and Bifur’s problems with language limit which mine captains will work with him. We’ve been lucky that our wares find good trade in Bridgeport and Lunehurst.” Bofur explained.

“Would you be willing to help Thorin understand his talent?” Dís asked.

“We can do that,” Bofur answered after a moment, “Bombur has a houseful, but there’s always room for us.”

“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need,” Dís offered. “Is there anyone who we need to send word to?”

“No, the miners all know that we planned on coming to town for a while before heading to Bridgeport and Lunehurst, and neither of us have partners.”

Thorin felt a hand brush hair away from his forehead before tucking the blankets in around him as the sound of footfalls heralded the departure of Dwalin, Bofur and Bifur. Dís placed a gentle kiss on his brow before leaving him to rest, pulling his door mostly shut behind her. Dimly he was aware of a continued conversation happening in the kitchen, down the hall from his room, where he could hear Fíli and Kíli’s voices as they were told about the events of the day. Sometime later the cabin grew quiet, leaving only the voices of the stone around him. Thorin let the murmurs and whispers flow past and through him, not trying to make much sense from what he was hearing and feeling at the moment, other than learning that this talent was something he registered more through touch than through his ears. The deep tones and sounds soon lulled Thorin to sleep as he rested on his bed, and he dreamed.

In his dream Thorin traveled East, not across the surface of Arda following the rivers and roads, but below the surface, riding rivers of fire and molten rock. Passing quickly under the hills of Emyn Uial, the North Downs, the Ettenmoors, Hithaeglir, and under the northern part of Rhovanion, Thorin found himself at the roots of Erebor. Thorin could hear the mountain continue to weep and mourn for her Dwarrow who were either driven off or fell the day Smaug came. Thorin was filled with a desire to comfort the mountain he truly called home and he heard her quiet joy at the realization that one of her children could hear her once again. Erebor was eager to call her children home and Thorin knew that the mountain would do all she could to help the Dwarrow rid her halls and chambers of the dragon who befouled her. With that final promise Erebor released Thorin’s mind and he felt himself rush back to where his body slept in Ered Luin. As he returned he could feel the mountains that surrounded Thorin’s Hall give a quiet weary sigh. They had done much to support Mahal’s children over the ages. Now they were tired and worn, still willing to give what they could, but not having anything left to give. Ered Luin would gladly pass their Dwarrow into Thorin’s care if they could build a better life elsewhere.

Thorin woke to the sounds of birds chirping and light pouring in through his window. As he lay in his bed he stretched, feeling the joints in his spine pop and crack. Sitting up he swung himself around and placed his bare feet on the chilled stone floor. Thorin’s mind was filled with the whispers of the flagstone and he suddenly knew the layout of all the spaces within the cabin that had stone or packed earthen floors. He was aware of the presence of five other Dwarrow about the place and he was getting a feeling of ‘something’ from the direction of the storeroom, but he couldn’t figure it out. Feeling hungry Thorin got out of bed, washed his face in a basin at his washstand, and dressed in a clean pair of trousers, topped with a loose tunic and his favorite broad belt. He didn’t bother with socks or boots remembering and agreeing with what Bofur had said before he slept about being in contact with the earth below. Even with the frost and mud of spring on the ground Thorin knew that the more he could be in direct contact with the earth the quicker he would get a handle on this new skill.

Padding down the hallway to the kitchen Thorin quickly found part of a loaf of bread, some cheese and smoked fish to eat, and dipped out a mug of ale from an opened cask in the corner. Sitting at the table Thorin gave a word of thanks to the land beneath his feet for providing sustenance before beginning his repast. It didn’t take long before Thorin was joined by Bofur, Bifur, Fíli, Kíli, and Dís. Bofur had a piece of half carved wood in his hand, Bifur was chewing on a raw turnip, Fíli and Kíli both shared expressions that Thorin associated with them when they were bursting with questions, and Dís simply gave him a resigned look.

“Good to see you up and around Master Thorin,” Bofur spoke with a grin. Something in how the young Stonetalker talked forced Thorin to ask how long he’d been asleep.

“Not terribly long, only a day and a half,” Bofur replied. “How do you feel?”

“Hungry and a little stiff.” Thorin admitted.

Bofur nodded, “Good. I see that you left your socks and boots behind, how does the stone feel this morning?”

Thorin tipped his head as he paid attention to what he felt through his feet, “Not bad, I can tell where everyone is inside the cabin, and if I’m hearing this right there’s something moving about in the storeroom?”

Bofur pulled off a glove and leaned over so he could touch the floor. He closed his eyes and got a contemplative look on his face for a couple of minutes before breaking out in a bright grin, “Oh you’re good. The five of us are easy enough, especially with Bif and I being Stonetalkers, but I think you’re hearing some mice in the storeroom. You’re gonna find that everything is will sound loud to you for a while, until you learn to sort it all and get used to filtering out the unimportant stuff. However, I would suggest that you keep working with hearing the mice and such. Stonetalkers who can hear the life that walks on the surface through the rock are rare. I have a little talent in that vein, but I think you’re going to be much better at it than I. When I was first learning how to use my talent, Bifur told me that Stonetalkers with that skill have no troubles hearing whatever the stone can tell you.”

Thorin nodded as he finished a mouthful of bread. “Have either of you known any Stonetalkers that have received messages from someplace far away?”  
Bifur looked up at Thorin’s words and began speaking in Old Khudzul and signing quickly in Inglishmêk, Khudzul's partnering finger and hand sign language. Thorin was pleased to find that he was able to catch quite a bit more than he was expecting and realized that he was being helped by the memories of his prior life where he’d spent most of a year traveling with Bifur. Seeing the somewhat confused looks of Fíli, Kíli and Dís, Bofur jumped in and easily translated what Bifur was saying for everyone at the table.

“Bifur says that talking to others far away is one of the main skills of being a Stonetalker, but he doesn’t think that is what you are asking about. There are stories among Stonetalkers which describe events that affected them over vast distances. At the end of the War of Wrath, when the Valar tore Arda and sank Beleriand, a generation of Stonetalkers were rendered deaf from the screams of the breaking stone. Many Stonetalkers went mad with grief when they realized they could no longer sense the stones beneath their feet. Only a few survived to pass their skills onto the next generation, and some facets of the art needed to be relearned through practice and experience. When the Dwarrow of Khazad-Dûm delved too deep in their pursuit of Mithril they ignored the warnings of their Stonetalkers. In the weeks before the rise of Durin’s Bane, Khazad-Dûm’s Stonetalkers abandoned the mountain in an act of self preservation. When the Balrog woke beneath Hithaeglir every Stonetalker in Arda knew it.”

“And when Smaug came to Erebor?” Thorin asked.

Bifur nodded and spoke again, letting Bofur translate. “Bifur was finishing his apprenticeship at the time, and he remembers hearing the stone shift as Smaug relocated to Erebor. Dragons are heavy, and the weight of the gold filling Erebor’s treasuries could be heard and felt by skilled Stonetalkers even before Smaug added his bulk to it. Bifur says that he heard Erebor keen for her lost Dwarrow and groan under the added weight of the Dragon.”

Thorin took a few moments to think about what Bofur and Bifur had told him as well as considering the dream he’d experienced as he slept. Fíli and Kíli remained quiet, but he could still see that they were full of questions. Dís had puttered about as Bofur and Bifur spoke and added a teapot and a plate of scones to the table, making sure that everyone got a fair share. Thorin felt his lips curve in a wry smile as he looked at his nephews expectantly.

“What is it like?” Fíli asked, with Kíli’s eager nodding to enforce the question.

Thorin had to think for a while before he answered, “It’s not easy to put into words. At the Baths when this started I put my hand on the raw stone of the spring and I could suddenly feel the water in a way that was more than just a sensation of wetness, motion and temperature. I could feel how the water made its way up to the surface through the channels and cracks in the stone. I could feel how it pushed against the rock, and how the rock pushed back. I could tell that the water was good, untainted by anything that would make it unsafe to drink.” Thorin shrugged, “I can’t tell you how I know to put what I felt into those words, only that I know what I’ve said is true. Today when I woke and put my bare feet on the floor I just knew where everyone was, and apparently that we have mice in the storeroom.”

Bofur nodded, “It can be like that. Stonetalking is a gift from Mahal. Understanding what the stone can tell us is mostly instinct and gut feelings. A Stonetalker just has to learn how to listen and trust what they feel and hear.”

“There was a reason I asked about receiving messages from afar,” Thorin broke the contemplative silence that fell after Bofur said that Stonetalking was a gift. “When I was asleep I had a dream. I felt like I traveled through the ground, riding on fire and molten rock to Erebor. She spoke to me. Told me that the Clan had been gone long enough and needed to come home. She said that she’d help us get rid of Smaug if we returned.”

“Just one minute!” Dís broke in with a glare, “Thorin, you’ve never shown even the slightest hint of being able to hear stone before these Dwarrow carried you home after you collapsed at the Baths, and earlier that day you were not acting like yourself…” she shook her head, “Now… Now you want me to believe that you’ve spoken to Erebor? That the mountain wants us to come home? This is starting to sound like one of the elaborate practical jokes you used to plan with Frerin to see how far you could push Father and his advisors.”

“Dís, I know it seems far fetched, and a week ago I would have agreed with you. I don’t know why I’ve been given this, or why it has taken so long to wake. I only know that I’m not the same Dwarrow I was a week ago and that if this is the path Mahal wants me to follow, then I will with a heart full of thanks and a smile on my face. I am grateful for the fact that I have Dwarrow like Bofur and Bifur to show me what to do and how to use the tools I’ve been given.” Thorin reached across the table to grasp Dís’ hands, “This is all new for me too, but I can’t believe that our maker would give me this without purpose.”

Dís sighed, “I guess I’m just remembering what happened to our Father and Grandfather…”

Thorin gave his head a slow shake, “This is not like the madness that claimed them. Both Father and Grandfather pulled away from their family, they both followed no council but their own for months before the full extent of their illness was known. You may not remember, but Thrór would vanish into his chambers, or the treasury for days before showing up in the throne room with new demands for increased production from the mines and forges. One of the last projects Thrór put upon his architects and engineers was to create a massive statue of himself, to be placed in the grand entrance of Erebor, cast from the purest gold. The last of the casting mold was put in place the day before Smaug came, and the foundry was scheduled to begin the melt for the gold as soon as the engineers signed off on the supports for the casting. When completed the statue would have been over sixty feet tall.” Thorin gave a wry grin, “I’m not looking for anything like that Dís, it’s not the gold or wealth of Erebor that calls to me, but the mountain herself.”

Dís dropped her head onto their joined hands, “I guess that is what I do not understand, and what without having your newly awoken talent I may never understand… Erebor is so far, months of travel separate us, how can you hear something that distant?”

Bifur blinked and scowled before pushing his seat back from the table and untying his boots. Once he had his feet bare, Bifur pulled off his gloves, stood from the table and walked outside. Sharing a look, everyone scrambled to follow as the Stonetalker strode purposefully toward the Baths. Thorin barely managed to keep up with the group, every time he put a foot on the ground he could feel an echo which made him aware of every Dwarrow, pony, dog, cat, sheep, goat, goose, pig and chicken in an area of about ten paces in any direction. Bofur had mentioned to him that he would feel distracted, but Thorin doubted the younger Stonetalker had meant anything quite like this. As they reached the Baths they found Bifur stripped to the waist with his arms wrapped as far as they could go around an outcropping of natural stone at one side of the largest spring. The Dwarrow’s eyes were closed and a deep hum rumbled in his chest. Bofur placed a bare hand against the stone near Bifur and waved Thorin and the others over.

“Put your hand here, Bif is putting out a Call. I told you earlier that Stonetalkers can speak to others at a distance right?” Bofur asked and the others nodded, “That’s what he’s doing now. I can teach you the basics Master Thorin, from what I’ve seen so far you’ll be able to Call over a good range, but I’ve yet to meet a Stonetalker who can best Bifur when he’s Calling. The further a message has to travel the longer it takes, but Bifur has talked through stone to others in the Iron Hills.”

Thorin put his hand on the rock Bifur was draped across and his entire body was filled with the deep hum that Bifur was making, to the point where Thorin could feel it shake his bones. Then, under the hum, Thorin became aware of Bifur’s voice speaking achingly slowly in Old Khudzul. Thorin quickly realized what Bofur had said earlier, the syllables of Old Khudzul were perfect for speaking over distances through stone. Thorin’s eyes grew large as he looked first at Bifur and then at Bofur. In his prior life Thorin had heard about Stonetalkers, and he knew that the talent was prized among miners, stone masons and architects, but before today he never understood the full extent of why. At Thorin’s expression of wonder, Bofur returned a wry smile and his sister and nephews scrambled to place their hands on the stone as well.

“All I can hear is humming,” Fíli announced in a quiet voice. “Is that what you hear Uncle?”

“I hear the humming, but for me there are words underneath, my Old Khudzul is rusty, but I think he’s asking if anyone is listening in Ered Mithrin, or the Iron Hills.” Thorin looked at Bofur for confirmation.

“You’ve got it. Bif will repeat that three times and then wait for a response. At that distance it will take several hours for a return message, but that’s still faster than sending a raven or a messenger. Historically Dwarf Holds have a Stonetalker posted to listen at all times, but around here if we have anything to say we aim to send messages at sundown, so that the others know when to listen. If you have a message to send North or South sundown works as a good time, if you need to send a message East or West it can be a little tricky if you’re trying to send a message to someone not in a Dwarf Hold. We have networks of Stonetalkers to relay messages for those who can’t reach as far as Bif, and I’ll teach you how to recognize a Calling coming in and how to tell if it’s one you need to pass on. Bif is going to be busy listening for the rest of the day, so I can get you started on learning the basics of how to hear and send a Calling. You’ll need to brush up on your Old Khudzul and we’ll have to find what tone works best for you.”

“Tone?” Thorin asked.

“That’s what we call the hum you hear. Each Stonetalker can generate a humming vibration that travels through stone to carry their words. The sound is unique to each Stonetalker, just like your voice is unique to you. When Bifur sends out a Calling, all the Stonetalkers who hear him know who it is.”

Thorin nodded and lifted his hand away from the rock. That muted the hum, but Thorin could still ‘hear’ Bifur’s hum through the soles of his feet as the Calling passed through the flagstone that made up the floor. The tone buzzed and tickled, causing Thorin to shuffle his feet. Bofur noticed and shot Thorin a grin.

“Let’s go find a boulder and we can try to find your best Stone Voice. Once we’ve got some dirt between us and Bifur you won’t feel his Calling so strongly. I think you’ll be wanting to add a good pair of boots, thick socks and gloves to your wardrobe Master Thorin, they’ll help cut down on the distractions, especially if you plan on traveling. New stone always wants to chat you up, if it knows you can understand.”

Dís excused herself as, with the influx of Dwarrow from the surrounding hills anticipating the breaking of ice on the Little Lune and the resumption of trade down river, she needed to make an appearance at the docks and warehouses to make sure there were no disputes that needed the attention of either her or Thorin. Fíli and Kíli continued to follow along as Thorin and Bofur made their way to the edge of town and out into a nearby pasture.

“What about the echo?” Thorin asked, then explained when he saw Bofur look puzzled, “with every step, I feel an ‘echo’ that tells me the position of every Dwarrow, pony and such for about ten paces in all directions.”

Bofur gaped at Thorin for a moment before plopping himself down in the middle of the path, and yanking at his boots. Once his feet were bare he bounced up and held out his hand to Thorin. “Not sure if this will work, but take my hand and hum. Pick a note you’re comfortable with and think about what you’re sensing. Sometimes a Stonetalker can share a talent or give a boost to another with a similar talent. I’m pretty good at hearing living things through stone, but if you’re hearing all that without trying…”  
Thorin felt a little silly, but he did as Bofur directed and was stunned as Bofur added his own hum. Suddenly Thorin could sense things clear across the settlement and Bofur gasped as his senses sharpened to an almost painful intensity. He winced as a pony pulling a wagon and a team of Dwarrow passed by on their way to the docks. Bofur found that his feet itched as he sensed a couple of youngsters and a dog scampering toward the Keep, eager to begin their morning training. Releasing Thorin’s hand, Bofur whistled, “Phew, I think we’re going to have our work cut out for us. It’s going to take some quick thinking and hard work to help you get used to everything you’re hearing Master Thorin. You’ve got one of the strongest talents at hearing life that I’ve ever felt, and if we find that you’re this strong in everything, then it will be truly interesting to see what you can do.” Bofur’s face was split by a huge grin, “for now though, let’s go find that boulder and we’ll work on your first Stonetalking lesson.”

Thorin and Bofur spent the rest of the day in one of the snowy pastures on either side of a house sized boulder. Fíli and Kíli tagged along and hung about for a while, but soon grew bored and drifted away when they realized that all they could hear was the humming produced by Thorin and Bofur as the talked back and forth through the stone. Bofur was thrilled with how quickly Thorin was able to pick up the basics. It took very little time for Thorin to get the hang of generating the humming tone and speaking simultaneously, although Thorin was correct in thinking that he needed to brush up on his Old Khudzul as his messages would end up garbled or wouldn’t pass through the stone if he spoke too quickly, if his pronunciation was off, or if he let his tone waver. 

In the evening Dís sent Kíli to fetch Thorin and Bofur home for supper, where they were joined once more by Dwalin and Bifur. Bofur sent a look towards his cousin, but Bifur only shook his head, there had been no answer to his Calling today. Thorin decided that the best and quickest way to remind himself of the proper way to speak Old Khudzul was to use it and asked that everyone at least attempt to stick to that language for the evening. While everyone made a valiant attempt, by the end of the meal Bifur had almost laughed himself sick at some of the mispronunciations spoken by even the older Dwarrow at the table. The Ur cousins gladly and cheerfully corrected everyone and by the end of the evening Thorin had finally convinced Bofur to stop calling him ‘Master Thorin’ since Thorin was the student and Bofur was the teacher. He was feeling more relaxed and confident about his new found skill. Thorin’s feet were still bare and whenever Bifur or Bofur spoke Thorin could feel their distinctive tones travel through the flagstone under his soles. It wasn’t hard to realize that Bifur and Bofur would soon be able to hear what was becoming his distinctive tone just as easily. If this was true for all Stonetalkers, Thorin would be able to identify others with the talent as soon as they spoke. It was with a blink at the realization that Thorin looked at Bifur and received a nod and a grin in return with a quick couple of signs in Inglishmêk which verified it, and Thorin knew he must have mentioned something out loud.

After supper Dís arranged places for Fíli and Kíli to sleep and gave Bifur and Bofur the boys’ room. Dwalin left after getting a promise that they would spar the next day. Dís cornered Thorin before he was able to escape to his room and the bed which called him. “Do you really plan on trying for Erebor?”

“Yes, and soon. There was an urgency to my dreams that I can’t ignore. I’ll be heading to Bridgeport and Lunehurst with the first barges this year. I plan on spending some time in Lunehurst to gather news and earn some coin at the smithy there. Maybe I’ll learn something that will tell me how much time I have before I arrange that quest.”

“I don’t like it brother, but if this is something you must do…” Dís grumbled as she let Thorin escape to his room.

Thorin fell gratefully into his own bed, he was surprisingly sore and tired for a day not spent in the forges. His body ached like he’d been shoveling coke all day and his mind felt as though he had spent the day wrangling trade agreements with the men of Bridgeport or Lunehurst. With a heavy sigh Thorin wrapped himself in his blankets and was asleep before his head settled firmly into his pillow.

The following week Thorin spent his time working in his forge, sparring with Dwalin, Fíli, Kíli and Bofur, and being taught the ways of a Stonetalker by Bifur. He tried to hold all of his conversations in Old Khudzul, and by the end of the week Bifur was introducing him to the other Stonetalkers of Ered Luin, Emyn Uial, Tower Hills, and the North Downs by having him hold short conversations with them through the stone. Thorin found that with his new skill working with iron and steel became a true joy. Bifur explained that as part of being a Stonetalker any substance that was mined or quarried from the earth would gladly tell him the best use for it, just that some materials had louder voices depending on how skilled the Dwarrow was in working with them. Since Thorin had worked for so long as a blacksmith, armorer and weaponsmith it made sense that he would be particularly sensitive to iron and steel. As Thorin worked at his forge, remaking most of the order of blades he had from Lunehurst, he often caught himself humming the tone that carried his voice best through stone. When Thorin brought it up to Bifur, the Dwarrow let him know that this was a very good thing, as it helped the metal shape to his will. Bifur also let him know that while there was some transmission of the hum through the packed earth floor of the forge, most of it was directed towards the metal he worked, as was proper.

Ten days after Thorin first woke to find himself back in Ered Luin, in the time before the Company’s quest for Erebor the ice broke up on the Little Lune river, causing a flurry of activity in Thorin’s Hall. The last of the winter cast ingots of iron, copper, tin and lead were brought down from the smelters; crates of brass ship fittings, iron hardware, farming tools, and pewter ware were stacked at the docks ready for the first arrival of barges from Bridgeport and Lunehurst. The few herds of sheep owned by the farmers of the community were rounded up and given their spring shearing, with the bales of wool joining the crates of other goods. Thorin wrapped and crated his completed job, with Fíli, Kíli, Bofur and Bifur helping to move it to the docks.

The increase in activity brought a few squabbles and problems into town that were handled primarily by Dwalin and his town guard. Thorin and Dís were asked to mediate a couple of disputes that had cropped up over winter, as well as preside over three naming ceremonies and a handfasting in the four days it took for the last of the ice to clear and the first barge to arrive from Bridgeport. Thorin’s Stonetalking lessons continued and soon he could pick up on things that the rock and soil could tell him even through the soles of his hobnail boots. This had the added benefit of letting him know exactly where his sparring partners stood on the field, and enough about their stance that Thorin could anticipate their next move with a fair amount of accuracy. Thorin still got confused when he sparred against multiple opponents while wearing his boots, but he could tell that this was mostly from inexperience.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of names and places in this one so I'll give you a breather.
> 
> Arda = Middle Earth  
> Hithaeglir = Misty Mountains  
> Ered Luin = Blue Mountains  
> Tharkûn = Gandalf  
> Mithlond = Grey Havens  
> Eriador = Lands to the West of the Misty Mountains and East of the Blue Mountains  
> Gundabad = Mountain in the Northern reaches of the Misty Mountains, point of origin for the line of Durin.  
> Khazad-Dûm = Mines of Moria

Once the barges were loaded with goods for Bridgeport and Lunehurst Thorin packed a bag and some tools. He planned on completing the delivery of his commission and, unlike his prior life where he had hurried and rushed off to Dunland in pursuit of the rumors claiming to sight Thrain, spend some time in Lunehurst. It would serve him best to take a few days to gather news, learn how to travel as a Stonetalker, and take some work at Lunehurst’s smithy. Thorin knew that every coin he earned now would be needed on the quest ahead. A part of Thorin’s mind wondered when Tharkûn would show up to speak with him about reclaiming Erebor. The last time they had met in Bree at the Prancing Pony as Thorin was returning to Ered Luin from his futile search in Dunland. With the timetable the Wizard set, Thorin had been left to rush home and grab whomever he could and then turn around and rush back to The Shire. He had been exhausted by the time he had reached Bilbo’s home, and chuckled to himself ‘No wonder I got lost’.

While Thorin agreed with Tharkûn’s press to having an early start to the journey, there were certainly aspects that could be vastly improved upon with a bit more time spent planning and ensuring the company worked together as a group. Recalling that the first real set date they had after Mr. Baggins signed up was to be present at Rivendell by Midsummer’s Eve, and that it was about twenty days easy travel between Bree and Rivendell with good conditions. Keeping that in mind Thorin mentally adjusted his internal timetable realizing that with a couple of small changes he would have plenty of time after gathering the company, to arrive at The Shire, collect Mr. Baggins, and make sure that the Hobbit was properly equipped for the journey. Last time, the Company had reached Bree before they found out that Bilbo didn’t own a proper bedroll. Then they had rushed ahead, arriving in Rivendell worn out and ended up having to wait a fortnight for Midsummer when Thrain's map of Erebor could be read. While he wouldn't need Elrond's assistance with reading the map this time, Rivendell would still be a good place to rest and regroup before tackling the trek over Hithaeglir. Now Thorin didn’t expect to avoid all the problems that had plagued the Company in his prior life, but having a better understanding of what was out there would certainly improve the preparedness of the group. Already Thorin was making several adjustments to his mental list of what he planned on taking in his pack and on his person for the trip. He could not afford to fall into the trap of packing as though he was heading out searching for work, like he’d done last time. There would be few opportunities for him to work at a forge, and the space he’d used for tools last time would be better served as space for more food. Everything vital would be carried on his person, and even that would be examined with an eye on keeping it reduced to the bare necessities. While Thorin hoped that they would be able to keep their ponies with them a little longer this time around, he fully expected to end up walking for the majority of the quest.

Thorin bade farewell to Dís and walked down to the docks where the few Dwarrow traveling with the barges to Bridgeport and Lunehurst had gathered. He easily picked out Óin in the group bound for Bridgeport, while Glóin, Bifur and Bofur would be traveling with the group bound for Lunehurst. All the barges were scheduled to stop at Bridgeport, where Bifur would disembark to join the traders there, leaving Bofur to continue on with the novice Stonetalker. Thorin added his baggage to the Lunehurst group and then sought out the barge master to make a final check on the lading of the cargo and which barges were open to passengers. 

It only took a few minutes to get all the Dwarrow on board the various craft and for the barges to cast off from the docks. The Little Lune River was still running high and fast from the snowmelt, so the down river run would be an exercise in how well the barge pilots could steer the heavy craft through the twists and turns, while the rushing water pushed them along. It was risky, but for the next few weeks the Little Lune could carry the heavier barges normally used only on the deeper Lune River and the barge masters who chose to take the risk were rewarded handsomely by the Dwarrow of Thorin’s Hall. The upstream run was powered by teams of mules or oxen hauling the barges from tracks along the shore, and the earliest of the spring runs were occasionally delayed by washouts and damage to the trails, but once Thorin’s Hall was established the shore tracks were greatly improved by the labor of the Dwarrow who knew that keeping up the flow of trade was the only way they could hope to survive. This first run would also survey any changes in the river’s flow, or damage from the winter. Several barges were full of cut stone and timber, with a work crew of Dwarrow Stonemasons and Engineers to make repairs to the hauling trails necessary for later shipments up and down the river.

Thorin settled his pack and gear into the quarters he was sharing with Bofur and Bifur for the first leg of the trip, then made his way on deck to enjoy a pipe while watching the shore slide past. There was a chill in the air that told Thorin to expect snow or frost soon, but nothing to lead him to believe it would be serious enough to delay their travels. It wasn’t long before Bofur and Bifur joined him at the rail with their own pipes.

“We’ve got a friend or two in Bridgeport to help Bifur with trade, and a few merchants there know market hand-signing.” Bofur explained with a grin, “Last year Bif did better than I, and he didn’t say a word.”

Thorin looked to Bifur to find him nodding in agreement as Bofur chuckled and continued, “And he gave away about a quarter of his stock to kids in the market. He tells me that my problem is that I talk too much, and Bif’s probably right. I can loose track of negotiations if I don’t pay enough attention. Mind, I don’t get swindled, I just don’t do quite as well as Bif.”

“What about your plans?” Thorin asked.

“I’ll be staying with you. This is your first trip as a ‘talker, it’s best if I’m around should you get caught up in something, or if you have questions about what you’re ‘hearing’. When Bifur taught me he was practically in my pocket for the first six months, so he could be there when I came across anything new. He also helped wake me out of a couple of, guess I’d call them ‘trances’, when the stone grabbed my attention to the point where I lost track of my surroundings. Different ‘talkers have different things that can grab them, I can still get lost in the sound of a distant thunderstorm, and Bif can get caught by the sound of the liquid stone far below us, but we each have learned the signs to know when we’re apt to drift, and tricks to keep us in the present. At the beginning you’ll find that a lot of things can catch you, but as you start to recognize what causes which noise, there will be fewer.”

Thorin nodded, there had been a couple of times since his talent as a Stonetalker had woken where he had drifted off while listening. Thankfully it had only been for a moment or two each time, as once it happened while sparring with Dwalin and a couple of other guardsmen, Thorin had been very lucky that the others were experienced and could divert their swings in a blink, when Thorin hadn’t reacted in time to defend himself from their strikes. As Dwalin was trying to figure out what had happened, while giving Thorin a dressing down for being inattentive, Thorin heard a distant rumble of thunder and realized that the distraction had come from him being able to sense the lightning strike of the approaching storm. At the time Bofur explained that it was a good thing that Thorin was showing such a wide range of sensitivity, as once he got used to things there would be less of a chance for him to become ‘lost’ in what he was sensing.

Standing at the rail Thorin tried to listen for a bit, but all he could hear was the water, rushing and babbling as it tumbled over the stones and gravel in the riverbed. It sounded very much like a room of people socializing at a formal party, where individual conversations were nigh impossible to pick out. Thorin’s brow furrowed as he tried to let the murmurs flow past him, like he learned to do at the few official state functions he had attended at Erebor before Smaug came.

“You’re good at letting the river sounds just flow around ya.” Bofur commented with a nod, “I almost expected the sound of water to be one of the things that make you drift, since your talent woke in the Baths.”

Thorin gave Bofur an acknowledging nod, “It could, but the sound is similar to being at one of my Grandfather’s events before the Dragon. You had to learn how to let the chatter ebb and flow around you. As an heir, yet not the next in line, it was important for me to be present, be seen and greet important guests, but I wasn’t expected to speak with anyone. I was considered too young to have any influence on the King.”

“Good skill to have, it will probably help with that ‘echo’ you hear on land as well, particularly when we reach some larger towns. You can depend on the stone to tell you if what you’re hearing is important. Remember when we started with learning how to send a Call, you could tell when something was a returning message, or if it was being relayed further out. A lot of Stonetalking is learning how to trust what your mind says that you’re sensing.”

The three Dwarrow settled back into silence, there wasn’t much for them to do other than stay out of the way of the Men who worked the barge, and watch the shore slide past.

It was two days later that the barges docked at Bridgeport and Thorin got caught up in the bustle and hurry of the port town. Goods were arriving from several settlements upstream and the docks and streets of Bridgeport were crowded with Men and Dwarrows moving goods and making deals. All the Dwarrow from Thorin’s Hall worked hard to unload the cargo, move it to various warehouses, and guard it for the merchants. Bofur and Bifur taught Thorin how to use his Stonetalking senses to ‘read’ buildings, walls, roads and the stone quay where the ships and barges docked. Thorin was quick to learn the differences between Man and Dwarrow built structures, and find the locations of natural stone around the village that could be used to send Calls through.

The barges bound for Lunehurst remained docked for only a single night in Bridgeport before continuing on. The River Lune was broad and deep, running quick with the spring run off and they made good time, reaching the docks in Lunehurst half a day early. At Lunehurst the hustle and flurry of activity Thorin witnessed at Bridgeport replayed itself, only this time he helped unload his and Bofur’s goods into a cart they rented at the docks. Pulling the heavily laden cart through the streets of Lunehurst, Thorin made his way to a fair inn close to the smithy. He arranged to rent a room there for himself and Bofur for at least a week, while Bofur arranged to rent a booth in a nearby market as a place to sell his wares. Once they had their accommodations Thorin and Bofur hauled the cart to the smithy to unload the crates of blades, and send one of the available apprentices with word to the Captain of the city guard that Thorin had arrived with his commissioned order. It wasn’t long before the lad returned with a message that the Captain would come by in the morning to inspect the work and settle the account. The other smiths gladly cleared a space for him near one of the best anvils, many had worked with him before and were looking forward to the possibility of learning new skills from watching him work. Bofur stayed with Thorin as he set up his work space and hired one of the journeymen to watch over his tools and the sealed crates of blades. Thorin had included some pieces of raw iron with his tools, so that the Head Smith, a man called Brekheimer, could only charge him for fuel and rental of the workspace. Thorin had dealt with Brekheimer for years, and his father before him, and both parties gained a profit from the arrangement as trade with the smithy increased when Thorin was it town. Thorin thought a little ruefully that it was most likely because of the novelty of seeing a Dwarven smith working alongside Men. 

Once Thorin had his space set up to his liking, he helped haul the much lighter cart to the market where Bofur had rented a booth. The market was even closer to the inn where they had their accommodations, and Thorin could tell that it would have very good traffic. One of the younger apprentices from the smithy had tagged along when Thorin and Bofur had moved to the market and his eyes lit up when Bofur offered him one of his fancier toys to watch over his wares while he was in town. Bofur also let the lad know that he’d be paid a modest amount in addition to the toy if he did a good job guarding the stall. The boy promised that he could do a good job, but that he’d have to ask his mother before accepting the position, since it would mean he would guarding the stall overnight, while Bofur slept at the inn. Bofur shooed the boy away to ask for permission and continued to inspect the stall, mentally going over what he had to display.

Several days passed with Thorin working at the smithy, completing his commission with the Captain of the Guard and taking on some special orders. Bofur was also pleased with how well his goods were selling, the market was quite active with shoppers looking for a wide range of merchandise. In the evenings Thorin and Bofur would spend some time in the common room of the inn, swapping stories, telling jokes, and singing songs with the other guests. Both were cautious to limit their drinking and merrymaking although both were seeing higher than average profits. Bofur continued to work with Thorin to hone his growing skills in Stonetalking, taking him to the edge of town where there was natural rock and having him Call to Bifur, who’d remained in Bridgeport, every other day. 

It was late one evening, as Thorin and Bofur returned to the inn after conversing with Bifur, that Thorin spotted Tharkûn among the patrons in the common room. It was several days earlier than Thorin was expecting, and it took a moment for Thorin to realize that it made sense if Tharkûn had started his search at the Grey Havens or Lunehurst and then travelled overland to Bree where they had finally met. Thorin handed a coin to Bofur and nudged him toward the bar to pick up some ale before choosing a bench near the fire. Thorin decided it would be best if Tharkûn approached him, as he had no real reason to seek out the wizard. Bofur passed Thorin his ale and took a seat before pulling out his pipe and offering his tobacco pouch to Thorin.

“Most of the others are finishing their sales now, and there’s a barge heading back to Bridgeport early in the week.” Bofur commented as he filled his pipe.

“I was thinking about staying another week to work at the smithy. There are a couple of large orders they’ve asked for help on, but they won’t take long. Find out if anyone plans on heading to Bridgeport at the tail end of this week, or beginning of next, and I can be ready.” Thorin offered, knowing from Bofur’s comment that he was running low on stock and had finished most of the sales he was expecting from this trip.

Tharkûn had turned his head to peer at Thorin from under his quite impressive eyebrows once he heard Thorin speak. It took a poke from Bofur’s elbow for Thorin to realize that he’d pitched his voice to carry some of his Stonetalker tone. Bofur gave him a bit of a scowl, but didn’t say anything as the tall, grey robed, wizard made his way to the bench opposite them.

“You have quite a memorable voice Master Dwarf,” Tharkûn stated as he took his seat and puffed on his own pipe. “If I may be so bold, are you perchance Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thrór?”

Thorin gave a shallow nod, “I am. Do I know you?”

“You may not remember, but I met you once in Erebor.”

“Erebor was lost long ago, for you to claim that you know me from then would certainly mean you are more than you appear.” Thorin answered, as his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Tharkûn smiled with a twinkle in his eye, “I’ve been named Tharkûn among Aulë’s people, although here I go by the name Gandalf.”

“So, you are the Grey Wizard that my Father and Grandfather spoke of. They often gave me warning about dealing with you, but agreed that any time you showed up in Erebor interesting things were sure to happen. Are you taking advantage of our meeting here just to introduce yourself, or do you have another reason for coming to Lunehurst?”

“Actually, I’ve just arrived in town from Mithlond. I was planning on catching a barge up to Bridgeport, and from there up to Thorin’s Hall, if I had not run into word of you here. I do have news for you, and an issue of concern if you care to hear it.”

Looking around a the crowded common room Thorin decided it might be better to take their conversation somewhere more private. Flashing a quick hand sign in Inglishmêk to Bofur, to follow them, Thorin led Tharkûn out of the inn and over to the smithy, which was empty except for a couple young apprentices charged with keeping the fires banked and ready for the morning. Thorin moved over to his work area and laid his palm on the anvil he’d been assigned. Thorin had discovered while working and listening to conversations of the smiths around him that if he was touching iron he could get a strong sense for how honest someone speaking nearby was.

“We can speak here, you mentioned that you had news for me?”

“Have you received word that Thrain has been sighted in Dunland?”

“Yes, I got word last fall when it was too late in the season to travel. I considered heading out to search this spring…”

Tharkûn raised his hand, stopping Thorin from completing his thought, “I have news of Thrain, son of Thrór. Several years ago I discovered an elderly Dwarf wandering alone near the Southern edge of what was known as the Greenwood when Erebor was strong. The Dwarf was dressed in naught but rags, and bore signs of torture and starvation on his body. I rendered him what aid I could, cleaning his wounds and sharing my rations. He was feverish and I soon discovered that while his body had survived, his mind was broken. I cared for him for three weeks before he was called to Aulë, and died from his wounds. It was only on the last day that I was able to recognize him, and he was able to speak clearly enough to tell me of his final wishes. He bade me to find his son, so that you would know his fate, and asked that I encourage you to take back Erebor.”

Thorin raised his brow, “Take back Erebor? It is a fine dream, and one that my father Thrain apparently pursued to his death. Perhaps in twenty or thirty years I will be able to lead an attempt with a strong enough force to overcome Smaug,” Thorin shrugged, “To do so before would be folly.” From across he forge Bofur gave him a slightly confused look, but continued to puff on his pipe and whittle at a piece of wood.

Tharkûn chewed on the end of his pipe, “I would urge you to reconsider. It has been sixty years since Smaug has been seen outside the mountain, and it's taken me several years to locate you to pass on your father’s wishes. There are growing whispers that the treasure in Erebor lies unguarded. It won’t be long before these whispers grow strong enough that others will be willing enough to make an attempt at taking Erebor.”

“I know that Smaug still resides within Erebor, any who dare to enter her halls will discover that truth at the points of his very sharp teeth. You say he hasn’t been seen outside the mountain in sixty years, who’s to say that is anything more than a short nap for a dragon? I will not risk the lives of any Dwarf unnecessarily. You mention the start of whispers. With what I know of whispers and rumors I could be dead from old age before anyone gathers enough courage to go against what is sleeping inside that mountain.” Thorin returned. He didn’t want Tharkûn to realize that he would eventually agree with the wizard’s demands and was already planning on returning to Erebor in the year ahead.

“Thorin, there are more than just Men, Elves and Dwarves hearing those whispers. Wild Men in the hills around Rohan, Corsairs from the coast, and even the dark Haradrim of the far South are becoming bolder. Their faces have been seen in places far from their usual lands. Close by the roads are growing less safe year by year, bandits and highwaymen are becoming widespread. The Rangers inform me that they are doing what they can but their forces are small and spread across the whole of Eriador, from Ered Luin to Hithaeglir. The Rangers also report growing numbers of Goblins and Orcs in the mountains and hills, with wide ranging patrols of Warg riders. Would you see them expand into yet another Dwarf Hold, like Gundabad or Khazad-Dûm?”

Thorin gave Tharkûn a sharp glare and heard Bofur’s shocked gasp. Time stretched the quiet which fell after Tharkûn’s words while Thorin considered his response. “So you would have me make an attempt to reclaim Erebor from Smaug now, because you feel that if we wait it won’t be a single foe, but a horde of Orcs and Goblins? Yet without a force of our own to hold it, supposing we defeat the dragon, how can we hope to keep Erebor should a force like that choose to attack later?”

“There is something within Erebor that would get you all the help you’d need to defend your claim…” Tharkûn hinted.

Thorin snorted, “I know what you speak of Tharkûn, and I remember how it sat at the top of my Grandfather Thrór’s throne. You are right, with that in my possession I could call on the other Dwarven Lords for help, but only once it is in my hands. However, as you also pointed out, it lies inside Erebor as part of a Dragon’s hoard. So, just how do you suggest I retrieve said item?”

“I believe using a small group will give you the best odds for success, I’d say no more than twenty. Traveling under the guise of an expedition hoping to open paths for trade will get you close to Erebor with the least amount of notice. Then it would be a matter of stealth and cunning to retrieve the prize from Erebor.”

Thorin chuckled darkly, “And once the stealthiest member of my party has removed this prize, what’s to keep Smaug from turning us all to ash? For that matter, just how much chance would you give a Dwarf approaching a Dragon to remain unseen, unheard and more importantly unsmelt? I strongly doubt that terrible Wyrm has forgotten the smell or taste of Dwarf.”

“Ah, you see that is why the fellow I have found to help you on this quest is doubly suitable! He is not a Dwarf, and his people are known for their uncanny stealth.” Tharkûn said with a glitter in his eye and a smile playing about his lips.

“Not a Dwarf, and having uncanny stealth?” Thorin mused, “From what you say this person must also be no Man or Elf, for Smaug would be sure to recognize them as well. In fact, the only people I can say fit that description are the Halflings of The Shire, and one of the things they are known best for is staying put.” Thorin tipped his head and gave Tharkûn a serious look, “Tell me Tharkûn however did you convince one of those gentle folk to consider leaving their home to be part of a venture that is still in the planning stages at best?”

If he hadn’t been looking for it Thorin would have missed the faint embarrassed blush that rose to Tharkûn’s cheeks beneath his beard as the Grey Wizard brushed Thorin’s concern aside with an airy wave, “No time to worry about that, you should gather your party and start as soon as possible. It is a long way to Erebor.”

Thorin bristled a little, he’d forgotten how much Tharkûn had taken for granted at their meeting in his previous life. Last time Tharkûn had played on Thorin’s pride, bitterness and feelings of failure, urging him to complete the task his father started and dangling the wealth of Erebor, with the promise of the Arkenstone, before him like a carrot before a hungry mule. Now Thorin felt somewhat ashamed at how easy it was for Tharkûn to point him in the direction of Erebor, give a verbal poke to his pride, and have him rushing off with no real plan to claim or hold it. Thorin scoffed silently to himself, ‘Between Tharkûn’s meddling and my pigheadedness Mahal must have been pulling out his beard in fistfuls trying to keep us alive last time.’ Thorin was suddenly struck by a second thought, ‘Wait… Tharkûn’s meddling… He’s the goad that started it all, and got us moving on his schedule. I’d bet he did the same with Mr. Baggins… But with how he dismissed my question… I wonder if Tharkûn has even approached Bilbo yet. If he hasn’t yet asked Mr. Baggins to join the company…’ Thorin’s mind cringed at the thought. ‘Foolish hobbit! He joined us on a spur of the moment decision! No wonder he was so woefully unprepared, and that would explain the fainting incident when we reviewed the contract. Oh Mahal.’

Thorin felt a low growl start deep in his chest. He didn’t say anything, but he had to think that not much time passed between the time when the company was introduced to Mr. Baggins and when Bilbo discovered that he’d been volunteered to travel across Arda and steal from a Dragon. Thorin shook his head ruefully and whispered in Old Khudzul, “Mahal, give me strength.” Before switching to Westron to address Tharkûn, “Today is the eighth of March. The earliest I could be in The Shire to meet this stealthy fellow, you say has agreed to join us in this venture, is the end of April if I’m expected to arrive with a small company of no more than twenty Dwarves traveling under the guise of a ‘trading expedition’. Is that acceptable?”

“Eminently! I have a map here of how to find Mr. Baggins’ residence and I will make sure he knows to expect you and your party on say, April the twenty fourth?” Tharkûn replied with a wide smile.

Thorin raised an eyebrow, and pointed an accusing finger at Tharkûn, “You were ready to badger me into agreeing to this venture… Don’t deny it Tharkûn! I can see it in your face, and that you already have maps to follow?”

Tharkûn began to chuckle, “Yes, I admit that I was prepared to argue in favor of making an attempt to claim Erebor sooner than later, and using a small group over a large one. The news of bands of Orcs and Warg riders that I’ve heard from the Rangers causes me concern. The last time such a thing happened Arda suffered through dark times. Should you succeed in reclaiming Erebor it will return strength to the free peoples of the North and increase security against whatever power may follow in the footsteps of the enemy once known as Lord Sauron of Mordor.”

Thorin gave a slow nod. He’d always wondered a bit about Tharkûn’s motivation for pushing him to retake Erebor, but in his last time his pride and fury had kept him from asking. Strategically Thorin could see that Erebor was important for the wealth she housed. Thrór’s hoarding had made her coffers overflow with gold, silver, and precious gems. It had also called Smaug down upon them. The return of a strong Erebor, in the hands of Dwarves, would also mean a strengthening of the other Dwarf Holds of the North, most notably Ered Mithrin and the Iron Hills. The mines and forges in those holds could supply many armies with well crafted arms and armor. Lowering his eyes, Thorin looked at the map Tharkûn had given him to see the same image he remembered from last time, “Good, I will plan to arrive with my party at the Green Dragon Inn in Hobbiton by the twenty third of April, and meet with Mr. Baggins on the twenty fourth.”

Tharkûn blinked before giving his farewells and leaving the smithy, taking Thorin’s dismissal for what it was. Once the Wizard had left Bofur stepped over to Thorin and started speaking in Old Khudzul, “You’re serious! You mean to mount an expedition to retake Erebor, and you mean to try it with a small group! I’m beginning to think your sister is right to worry about your sanity.”

“That may be, but I’ve been charged,” Thorin agreed, “It is not just Erebor that calls me to action, but Mahal himself. Bofur, with stone as my judge, what I tell you now is true. This is not the first time I have led this quest.”

Bofur’s jaw dropped, fumbling his pipe, it was a very serious thing for a Stonetalker to invoke stone as a judge of their words. If a Stonetalker lied after invoking that then the stone would let another Stonetalker know. If the judgement of stone was invoked in a mine then a lying Stonetalker took their life into their own hands, for if the lie was bad enough… Bofur didn’t want to think about what might happen. He quickly stripped off a glove and laid his bare hand on the anvil where Thorin also placed his palm. The anvil would tell him if Thorin lied. “What do you mean?”

“In the final year of my life I gathered a party of thirteen Dwarrow and one Hobbit from The Shire, hiked across Arda and took Erebor back from the Dragon Smaug.” Thorin answered with a shrug, “We were successful in our efforts to rid Arda of the Dragon, but the end was bloody and full of suffering. I was recognized as King Under the Mountain for less than a half a year before losing my life in battle on Erebor’s slopes, and watching both Fíli and Kíli fall before me. At the moment of my death I lay before Mahal and he offered me a choice, I could join him in his Halls, or I could have one more chance to try again knowing that my task would be greater and more difficult, but so would the possible reward.”

The anvil shivered under Bofur’s hand, but Thorin’s tone remained pure, indicating that he spoke the truth, “The stone speaks truth,” Bofur intoned, completing the terms of the oath Thorin swore, as he removed his bare hand from the anvil between them. “My King, I will follow where you lead.” Bofur finished, dropping to one knee as he swore fealty to Thorin.

Thorin received Bofur’s service and spoke, “Bofur, I need you to send word to Bifur to get ready to return to Thorin’s Hall. I will meet him in Bridgeport, to join him for the rest of the journey there. However, I have another task for you. I need you to go ahead to The Shire and approach Mr. Baggins of Bag End in Hobbiton.”

“Why?” Bofur asked puzzled.

“Because, as I think about the last time I went through this, it strikes me that Mr. Baggins was quite overwhelmed by the sudden presence of thirteen Dwarrow and a Wizard on his doorstep one fine April evening.”

“Oh? But Tharkûn said that he’d found us someone extra stealthy from The Shire.”

“Found, yes,” Thorin interrupted, “spoke to? I’m having doubts about that. One thing my father and grandfather aways let me know when talking about Tharkûn is that he’s a meddler. Someone who can have you doing something before you fully realize just what or why.”

“So you want me to go ahead and ask this Mr. Baggins if he’s been approached by Tharkûn?”

“In part, I would also like you to ask him if he would consider joining us in this venture. Tell Mr. Baggins that we are journeying to reclaim Erebor from Smaug, both to rid Arda of the threat the dragon poses, but also for the Dwarrow of Durin’s line to have a home once more.” Thorin paused, his brows furrowed in thought, “Try not to shock him with descriptions of the dragon’s fury, you weren't there. Oh, and the idea of treasure won’t hold much appeal to him either. Other than good food and homely comforts, Hobbits are fond of pretty and clever things. Items crafted of wood, with carvings of flowers and leaves, in bright flowery colors catch their eye most. Do you have enough of such things left in your stock that you might travel to Hobbiton as a tinker or toy seller?”

“Aye, I’ve enough for a small cart and I can work on a few things on the road.” Bofur agreed.

“Good, that will give you another reason to be in Hobbiton other than just looking up Mr. Baggins. Since it’s early in the season, it should be easy enough to join a group on their way to Hobbiton, or Bree. I’ll see you at the Green Dragon on the twenty third of April.”

Bofur gave a hesitant nod, “You should be fine on the trip back to Thorin’s Hall, it is aways easier going back over stone that’s known to you. I’ll be sending my purse back with you to give to Bifur, Bombur or his wife. May I tell Bifur about your charge from Mahal?”

Thorin shook his head, “No, I will tell him in person, this is not something I can chance on being overheard at this time. I don’t want to call down trouble that could be avoided by using a little discretion.”

“He’ll be wanting a reason why I’m letting you travel back alone. You’re getting the hang of being a ‘talker right quick, but you’re not even a month into it.”

“Didn’t you just say you thought I’d be fine? Tell Bifur it’s a test, because of how well I’ve been doing.”  
Bofur bobbed his head, “That’d work, and it’s not the first time I’ve chosen to join a group traveling inland for trade, I’ve been as far as the edge of The Shire before, there’s a good market in Michael Delving. Although I have been telling Bifur that I’ve had good luck this year, so it’s a little unusual.”

“Then he can be surprised at the size of the purse you send back.” Thorin said as they shared a grin.

Since it was quite late the two Dwarrow headed back to the inn and their beds. In the morning they would make arrangements for Thorin to return upriver and Bofur to head for The Shire.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note to let you know some of my language conventions: 
> 
> "(Text text text)" = Spoken words in a language not common to a region.  
> "Text text text" = Spoken words in a language common to a region.  
> 'Text text text' = Unspoken words or thoughts.

Thorin boarded the barge bound for Bridgeport with several other Dwarrow also heading back to Thorin's Hall. Returning their greetings he settled at the rail for a smoke once he'd stowed his luggage in his quarters. The barge was loaded with barrels of coal, headed for the smelters and forges at Thorin's Hall. In past years Thorin would have purchased several barrels for his own forge at the Keep, but he still had a barrel and a half from last year, and with his plans to journey to Erebor this year he wouldn't have need for more.

The trip to Bridgeport was uneventful, but Thorin's mind was on what he was going to tell Bifur and how he hoped Bofur's travels were going. Bifur was waiting as the barge docked.

“(How did it go?)” Bifur asked as Thorin joined him on the dock.

“(Good, no problems with drifting, or at least no more than anyone else with naught to do but watch the shore crawl past.)”

Bifur nodded, “(A little can be expected. I'd say you passed this test. Now Bofur said you had something to tell me?)”

“(Aye, let's go find a stone, or better an anvil, and I'll tell you what I told Bofur.)”

“(An anvil?)”

“(In Lunehurst I learned I can hear how truthful the conversations around me are if I am touching iron or steel, but I get the best readings if I'm touching an anvil with my bare hand.)” Thorin explained.

“(That's an old skill,)” Bifur commented. “(It will serve you well as leader of our Clan.)”

“(It should help with resolving some of the squabbles back in Thorin's Hall that have dragged on for years.)” Thorin agreed.

“(Maybe, but if both parties claim to be in the right, and really believe they are, both sides can sound true.)” Bifur pointed out as they reached the closest smithy.

“(Hadn't thought of that,)” Thorin mused, “(it will still be helpful with more recent disputes.)”

“(Should be, don't have any experience with that skill beyond a Stonetalker calling on stone to judge... Which I'm thinkin' is why we're here?)”

Thorin nodded as he placed a bare hand on the anvil and motioned for Bifur to do the same. Then Thorin asked the stone to be his judge before telling Bifur about his return by Mahal to relive the final year of his life for the chance to make things better. Like his cousin, Bifur pledged his fealty to Thorin and agreed to take part in the venture to retake Erebor.

After their discussion, Bifur and Thorin returned to the barge, making a stop along the way to pick up Bifur's belongings from the inn where he'd been staying. They spent the night aboard the barge at the docks in Bridgeport, setting out early the next morning for Thorin's Hall.

The leg of the trip to Thorin's Hall was just as exciting as the ride from Lunehurst to Bridgeport, but Thorin did notice that he was feeling somewhat unsettled about half way through. He had trouble sleeping and ended up pacing the deck at all hours. It wasn't long before Bifur noticed and asked about how he was feeling. Once Thorin described feeling unsettled and not sleeping Bifur nodded, “(Thought it might come up with how little time you spent ashore in Bridgeport. As a Stonetalker you're tied to the earth. When you go too long without touching rock or stone you'll feel disconnected and uncomfortable. Traveling by barge or boat for long periods keeps you out of touch with the bones of the earth, the kind of stone that we can send Calls through. I wondered if we should have spent some time relaying messages when you arrived in Bridgeport, but you looked to be doing well. It's also a good thing to learn about while we're near home, where we know the rock and stone.)”

“(This didn't happen on the way to Lunehurst.)” Thorin noted.

“(That trip was faster, and you were still early in understanding what it is to be a Stonetalker.)” Bifur answered with a shrug, “(Now that we know how long it takes before you feel uncomfortable we can keep it in mind for when you plan your route to Erebor. There are places between here and there where the Earth's bones lie deep enough that they are difficult to feel.)”

“(Can it be more of a problem then just feeling uncomfortable?)”

“(Yes, in extreme cases it can be. Your body needs sleep, it will get worn out fast if you can't rest. Then you'll become prone to illness and infection. If you're wounded it can make it so that you won't heal.)”

“(And to keep that from happening?)”

“(Only real way is to find stone or rock and spend time calling and listening. When we get to Thorin's Hall, take your things home and head for the Baths. There's good rock there to help you regain your balance. You'll understand better once you've experienced it.)”

Thorin nodded and tried to settle for the rest of the trip as they were only about a day away from Thorin's Hall, but he grew increasingly restless as the trip seemed to drag. Thorin was the first one off the barge when it was finally tied up to the docks and he sighed with relief when his boots touched the ground as he walked quickly toward the cabin to drop off his luggage and gather clean clothes for the Baths. After saying a quick hello to Dís and stripping off some of his heavy travel gear Thorin soon found himself on his way to the Baths.

As he entered the hall with the soaking pools Thorin realized that most of the Dwarrow who made up the company in his last life were there and the topic of discussion was the 'portents' Óin brought back from Bridgeport. Settling in to a comfortable spot with natural rock at his back Thorin listened to the words around him. While Óin stressed the more mystical aspects of ravens returning to the mountain indicating the time to defeat Smaug was nigh, Glóin brought up information and rumors he'd heard hinting at other parties that had growing interests in making the attempt. Both brothers were pointing out that it wouldn't be long before someone would try, if only for the prize of looting Erebor's treasury. That news set everyone to grumbling, complaining that the riches of Erebor were meant to belong to Dwarrow alone.

“Aye, I've heard this as well, but what action do you suggest we take?” Thorin asked thoughtfully, wanting to hear what ideas the others might come up with. The resulting silence stretched and echoed through the Baths, causing him to sigh. Apparently everyone just wanted to piss and moan about the unjustness of it all, they hadn't put any thought into possible actions or solutions. Thorin realized that he could understand it, only the oldest Dwarrow here knew what they were up against, having deeply etched memories of the day when Smaug arrived and drove them from the mountain. It had been so many years since his Clan had felt the rush of success in any of their ventures they were forgetting that they were once strong. He let the silence sit for a while before clearing his throat, “When I was in Lunehurst I was approached by an old friend of our Clan, Tharkûn. He confirmed the rumors that Glóin has told you, and he has agreed to lend what aid he can if we mount an attempt this year to reclaim Erebor.”

“Well the help of a wizard would certainly be welcome,” Balin voiced, “But to oust a Dragon... We'd need an army.”

“Aye,” Dwalin added, “an army we don't have.”

Thorin nodded, “I am aware of that. Even if we had a force of Dwarrow willing and able, moving an army from Thorin's Hall to Erebor is out of the question. We don't have the resources unless we resort to looting the lands we move through and I don't want to fall to that.”

The Dwarrow around the pool nodded, they would not willingly follow Thorin if he had chosen that path, while they were poor here in Ered Luin, they still had their pride. Thorin let them think for a little bit before continuing, “Tharkûn told me, and I agree, that our best chance will be to make the attempt with a small group, traveling under the guise of a trading expedition. This group would go to Erebor, not with the goal of defeating Smaug, but to recover one of our treasures. A treasure that would guarantee the assistance of the other Clans to rid Erebor of Smaug and return Erebor to the hands of Dwarrow.”

“I know what you speak of,” Balin started, “Thrain was of the same mind when he tried and was lost outside the Greenwood.”

“Yes, that was his goal,” Thorin agreed. “However, my father was determined that his party be exclusively Dwarrow, and Smaug is definitely familiar with us. I believe that even if Thrain and his party had made it to Erebor they would not have succeeded and we would have lost many fine warriors of the Clan. When I spoke with Tharkûn he told me that, although it is distasteful, we would have a higher chance of success if we employ stealth and guile over force.”

The Dwarrow grumbled for a bit, and Thorin let them. It was better than the arguments which had happened last time, although last time Thorin had sprung his request on the entire community and then had played on ties of loyalty and oaths of service to gain his group of 'volunteers'. This time, Thorin hoped to have the members of his Company signed on and solid before asking any of the other Dwarrow of Thorin's Hall. 

“How do you propose to get past the fact that Smaug knows the scent of Dwarrow, Man and Elf?” Balin asked. Thorin smiled to himself, trust Balin and his skill as a strategist and politician to see the heart of the problem with pulling together even a mixed group for the venture.

“Tharkûn has proposed that we hire one of the Halflings of The Shire to serve as a scout and burglar.” Thorin raised a hand to quiet the ensuing outburst of disbelief, “He did not share the details, but Tharkûn told me that he has convinced one of them to aid us should we undertake this venture.”

“Ha!” Glóin barked a loud laugh, “Count me in, I'll go with you Thorin, just for the chance to see you trying to convince one of those home loving Shire folks to join up to face down a Dragon.”

Óin threw a look at his brother and spoke up, “You're going to need a Healer on this business. So, you may as well put my name down. You won't find any of the others willing to leave their posts or families.”

Glóin pointed his heavy fingers at Thorin, “I hope you realize that even if we manage to reclaim Erebor that the work will be just starting. Smaug plundered far and wide once he set up housekeeping in the mountain. Not all of what that beast is using as a bed is the property of Dwarrows. It's going to take years to sort it all out.”

“I am aware, but we'll need to rid Erebor of Smaug and his taint before we think about starting any accounting or restitution efforts. I do not wish to be responsible for spreading Dragon Sickness among the people we'll need to count on for support and allegiance should we succeed.” Thorin explained.

“A wise decision,” Glóin agreed and several of the others nodded as well.

“So when do you plan for this venture to commence?” Balin asked.

“I've told Tharkûn I would meet him at the Green Dragon Inn of Hobbiton on the twenty-third of April, and that I would meet his Halfling candidate on the twenty-fourth. Ideally the Company would leave from The Shire once the Halfling agreed.”

The others nodded in agreement, it was just under one hundred leagues from Thorin's Hall to Hobbiton, a ten to fifteen day ride by pony depending on the roads and weather. The Shire was also on the way to Erebor, so it didn't make much sense to travel back and forth.

“We'll have to leave here no later than April fifth to be sure we have enough time to get good ponies in Lunehurst.” Glóin commented thoughtfully, “I've always gotten better deals when I take my time with the horse traders there. Do you have an idea about how large this company will be?”

“Not as such,” Thorin answered, “but Tharkûn recommended a party of no more than twenty.”

Glóin nodded and Thorin could almost see the Dwarrow start to calculate the risks and potential returns of the venture.

“It is my plan that the members of the Company will receive generous compensation for their participation in this venture. If Balin is agreeable, we'll come up with a contract expressing the details for any who sign on, taking into consideration contracts for similar expeditions mounted in the past.” Thorin explained, “I ask for no one's decision today. This is not something to choose rashly, there is a high chance of injury on a journey like this and a not inconsiderable possibility that we may be lost, or die and not return at all.” Thorin paused to let this info sink in, “In one week I'll call a town meeting to present the venture and ask for volunteers. I'll take on new members to the Company until the final day of March.”

There was a rise in muttering and whispering among the younger Dwarrow present and Thorin raised an eyebrow giving his nephews a sharp look, “Oh... One more thing, any Dwarrow signing the contract must be past the Age of Majority, which I'll remind you all is 70 years of age.”

This statement caused a wave of exclamations and grumbling from the younger Dwarrow, but Thorin knew that they only wanted to join up because they were enamored by tales of thrilling heroics told by their parents and older relations. Thorin certainly had no intention of leading any young inexperienced Dwarrow to their doom and then return only to face their Mother's wrath. He'd be dealing with enough of that from his sister if he managed to convince her to allow Fíli and Kíli to sign on.

When things quieted down Thorin settled in to soak for a little longer, enjoying the feeling of stone at his back and listening to the murmuring of the water as it burbled through the cracks and seams. Balin and Dwalin moved to seats nearby and Thorin could see that Balin was already plotting out the contract in his head.

“So, you really plan on going though with this?” Dwalin asked. Thorin nodded, and Dwalin continued, “I've always carried a bit o' regret that I never found your Da when he disappeared near the Greenwood, but I wasn't in charge of the expedition at that point and our best trackers lost the trail on the third day. If you'll have me, I'll sign on to watch your back.”

“Of course! If you think your Lieutenant can keep the peace and help support Dís here I'll be glad to have you along.” Thorin spoke with a grin, knowing that Dwalin wouldn't tolerate having anyone less than proficient as his second in command. Dwalin glared at him and splashed water at his face.

“Enough children.” Balin mock scolded, “Thorin, I need to check the archives, but I've got a good idea about what needs to go into the contract. I'll put together a draft and bring it by in a couple of days. I also have a couple of suggestions for Dwarrow to invite that I want to run by you.”

“Good, also see if we have any current maps of The Shire, particularly the area of Hobbiton.”

“I'm sure we do, things don't tend to change much there... May I ask why?”

“Tharkûn gave me a map to the location of his candidates home, but I'd like to compare it to one of ours. I don't think the maps drawn by Men or Wizards use the same notations, and I'd hate to get lost and miss our appointment.”

Balin nodded with a small smile playing around his mouth, and Thorin knew that his old friend was thinking about his well earned reputation for having little to no sense of direction above ground. Although Thorin had noticed that since his Stonetalking ability had woken his direction sense had improved, he still hadn't traveled enough with it active to feel comfortable relying on it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think I've left you all wondering what's going on with Bilbo long enough, right? 
> 
> A bit of a forwards/backwards time jump in this chapter, but I'm pretty sure everyone can keep up.
> 
> I admit I do touch on the Fannish concept of Dwarves and others in the Tolkien'verse having 'fated partners' or 'Ones' in this chapter, but I'm not planning on any scenes that could be classified as 'Citrus' at this point.
> 
> Smial = Hobbit home  
> Bounders = Shire border patrol  
> Faunt - Fauntlings = Hobbit children

The day was pleasantly warm as Bilbo relaxed in the small garden the Elves had built for him, just outside his rooms in Rivendell. This was about as far as he walked these days and Bilbo knew that he was reaching the final days of his life. Time had a curious way of sliding past him now, mornings would become evenings and Bilbo had little recollection of the middle of the day. He also knew that living in Rivendell didn’t help with his perception of time, Elves always had a certain timelessness about them. It was far easier to feel the passage of seasons in Rivendell than the passage of days. A part of Bilbo’s mind also recognized that his growing forgetfulness could be attributed to the destruction of the Ring. He had carried it for sixty years, while it had extended his life and whispered in the back of his thoughts. To think that such a simple band of gold once held the power of Sauron still made Bilbo shiver. He was proud of Frodo’s success, but it pained him greatly to see the toll that quest had taken on his nephew. When Frodo had rested in Rivendell on his return journey to The Shire, Bilbo had seen with his own eyes just how frail and hollow the lad was now.

On the days Bilbo felt most like himself, when he could see the world with clear eyes and feel the day pass without losing track of time, he would consider how his life could have been different if the threat of the simple gold band he’d discovered in the Goblin Caves had been recognized earlier. How much suffering could have been avoided if only the knowledge of the One Ring being found had come to light sooner? For sixty years Bilbo had carried it as though it were no more than a useful curiosity that served as a reminder of his grand adventure, never knowing its true worth. Bilbo gave his thoughts a scornful tisk, it had taken years before Gandalf had grown suspicious enough over Bilbo’s apparent disregard for the passage of time for him to even consider that there was something more to the simple band than an enchantment to make the wearer invisible. Knowing what he did now, Bilbo realized that the ideal time to destroy the ring had been shortly after the reclaiming of Erebor. That was when the Enemy was at their weakest in recent history, first by being dug out of the stronghold at Dol Guldur, then by having the Northern forces of goblins and orcs beaten by the Men, Elves, Dwarves and Eagles at the Battle of Five Armies in the shadow of Erebor. Before that darkness could regroup and recover in the wasteland of Mordor.

Bilbo sighed, regardless of knowing when would have been best to act the opportunity was long lost. It was impossible to return to that point in time, no matter how strongly Bilbo wished for it. Bilbo looked out over his garden and considered what he would have done differently if he had only known then what he knew now. A wry smile tugged at his lips as he imagined what his first meeting with Thorin and Company could have been like if he had been properly prepared to receive a group of thirteen Dwarrow for tea, supper and breakfast the following day. Oh there were many other things Bilbo would have liked to change from his time with the Company, but the thing that would have made the most difference, in his estimation, was the impression he had made by answering his door that evening in his smoking jacket with only a modest tea for one laid out on his table. It had taken weeks, and not a few harrowing experiences, for Bilbo to be accepted as part of the Company after that rocky start. Bilbo knew that his poor first impression was only partially to blame for the length of time it took for Thorin’s Company to fully accept him, the Dwarrow carried a fair portion themselves with their long history of cultural secrets and unwillingness to trust anyone outside of their own race. Bilbo still remembered the tension in the air during the days leading up to the Council of Elrond where Frodo volunteered to bear the Ring to the Fires of Mordor. Poor Lindir, Elrond’s chamberlain, had been a frazzled mess as he attempted to keep the various parties of Men, Elves and Dwarves separate to reduce the number of squabbles in the hallways and the breakage of furniture in the guest rooms. As Bilbo watched the sunlight play across the bright flowers, he realized that if there was one lesson he had to choose from his long life it was that all the peoples of Arda had a part to play, and it was best when they got over their differences and worked together. When Men, Elves, Dwarrow, and Hobbits combined their skills, arts, trades and knowledge, no force of evil, like Sauron, could gain a toehold over Middle Earth.

“Do you truly believe that?” A light voice breathed from behind him. Bilbo didn’t bother to turn, there was something in the sound of that voice which told Bilbo he was speaking with a power unseen in Arda for many an age.

“I do. The Enemy’s greatest power wasn’t his ability to subjugate others and bend them to his will. It was to sow discord and mistrust among his foes. Whenever the peoples of Arda worked together the enemy failed, even when he had the advantage of superior numbers and high morale.”

“What would you give to have the chance to make things better? To go back to the beginning, knowing what you do now?”

“Anything.” Bilbo replied without hesitation, “I would give anything.”

“Would you forego your place in Valinor, which you’ve earned by bearing a Ring of Power?” the voice asked.

“Gladly, for while I may have carried it for years and taken advantage of the least of its abilities, I should have done more.”

An indulgent peal of laughter came from the being standing at Bilbo’s shoulder, “Silly Hobbit, without knowing what you do now how could you have even guessed its importance?”

Bilbo nodded his acceptance of that truth. Sauron had made his Ring plain and unadorned on purpose, so that its importance would be overlooked. It was a bittersweet truth, but truth all the same. In his heart Bilbo still knew that he would give anything for a chance to make things better, or only even to be part of Thorin’s Company again, so he might at least keep Frodo from bearing the burden he had been unable to carry to the end.

“I have another question for you Bilbo. Can you forgive my husband’s child for his actions on the ramparts of Erebor?”

Bilbo ducked his head, “My Lady, there is nothing to forgive. Thorin was not himself at the time. Yes, I admit I was hurt by his actions, but I was not blameless in what transpired. My regrets from then rise more from the fact that we had such little time together after he broke free from the Dragon Sickness. I would have liked to have had more time to let him know that he was forgiven.”

“You care for him still…”

“I do. Thorin was not the easiest person to get along with, he was prickly, quick to take offense and could hold a grudge for years, but once you gained his trust…” Bilbo let his words trail off knowing that Yavanna would understand how his heart was still sore about how things had ended with the leader of the Company.

Bilbo could feel Yavanna nod behind him, “Bilbo, I came to you today to offer you a choice. My sister’s threads for your life’s tapestry have grown thin and their color is fading, if you desire it I will see that you reach the shores of Valinor where both you and Frodo will find peace and renewal, or you can give up your place in my gardens for the chance to make things better.”

“If I go back, will I remember?”

“You will, but know that just by having those memories the path of your life will be different. It may be that you will not have the same things happen, or the same people to share your life with.”

Bilbo paused, there was a warning in those words too heavy to ignore. If he were to accept the offer there would be a chance he could fail, there were no guarantees… But wasn’t that the point? Sure, there was a chance that he might fail, or that things could end up worse, but Bilbo felt that with the understanding he had now there was a greater chance that he would succeed. Bilbo also realized that if he accepted the offer there was a strong possibility that Frodo would not be part of his life. His heart gave a heavy thump at that thought, for he would miss his nephew dearly. However, when Bilbo recalled the image of Frodo as he’d last seen the lad, his heart agreed with the conviction of his thoughts that Bilbo would do anything to spare Frodo the awful toll of carrying the Ring to the Fires of Mordor.

“I see you have made your decision. Let us go inside so you may lay down. Rest, and when you wake you will have your chance. I have one more thing to tell you before you sleep.” Yavanna said as Bilbo climbed into bed. “Remember the skills of your youth and cultivate them. If you want to learn from my husband’s people then ask them, do not be put off by their gruffness.”

Bilbo smiled as he closed his eyes, remembering just how imposing Dwalin and the others could be and resolving to put his best foot forward this time.

\--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--

When Bilbo next opened his eyes he saw the ceiling of his room in Bag End arc above him. From the light coming in through his window he could tell it was morning, a light chill in the air had him wondering at the time of year, as it was decidedly not the summer warmth he’d fallen asleep to. Getting out of bed Bilbo stretched, reveling in the feeling of a body returned to youth. He quickly put on a robe over his night clothes and stepped over to the window. Pulling back the curtains he looked out. The trees on the hills around him had taken on their autumnal blaze of color, and from his vantage point Bilbo could see several half mown fields of grain. Closer to home he could see that the nearby gardens were showing late season tomatoes, cabbages, root crops, and vines of ripening pumpkins and gourds. Turning back to the room Bilbo caught sight of his calendar which showed it to be the beginning of September, 1339, the year before the quest to Erebor.

“Perfect” Bilbo said quietly to himself, “I can stock up the pantries and cellars and people will expect it is for my birthday and this upcoming winter. As I recall this was a fairly mild winter, but had some early frosts which encouraged others to stock up as well. My birthday will also be a good reason to make some of the recipes for honey cakes and waybread I learned on that trek. Hm, I wonder if there are any records of a Hobbit waybread from the wandering years? Well, if there are any they will either be housed in the dusty corners of the Mathom House at Michel Delving, or in Took hands.”

Bilbo took care of his morning necessities while he made mental lists of all that he wanted to accomplish before the arrival of Thorin and Company next April. It was as he was finishing his breakfast that his mind turned back to the idea of recipes for Hobbit waybread and he was struck by an idea, what if he decided to write a collection of old Hobbit recipes? He was already known for several collections of gathered tales and a treatise on growing tomatoes, it wouldn’t look out of character for Bilbo to go hiking about The Shire if he was doing research for a new book. That would also help him gather the supplies he would need for his upcoming quest as his search for the oldest recipes could easily take him from Hobbiton, to Michel Delving, or clear to the Hobbit settlement in Bree. Feeling full of energy with this idea in mind, Bilbo made short work of his morning dishes and got dressed for a day out. Wearing some simple but smart looking trousers, shirt, bracers, waistcoat and a light jacket, Bilbo added a satchel and walking stick before leaving his smial. He knew that he couldn’t start getting in condition too early for the long journey to Erebor, and with his idea of writing a collection of recipes there wasn’t too much his neighbors would be gossiping about when his habits changed from puttering about his garden, to him hiking about The Shire talking to any Goody Miss or Gaffer who would part with the recipes for their family favorites.

On the path from Bag End to Hobbiton, Bilbo greeted his gardener, Holman Greenhand, and made arrangements for when they would put up the rest of the winter produce from the Bag End gardens. The cellars of Bag End were deep and well built so Bilbo’s home had long been used as a place to store a portion of the preserves and seed harvests from all around Hobbiton in case of a heavy winter or a bad spring. He also asked Holman to spread the word among the Tenants of Bag End that Bilbo was willing to take shares of honey, cheese, ale, mead, winter preserves, cured meats, flour, and root vegetables as partial rent for the next three months, but only after their own pantries were stocked. This was an arrangement often used by Bungo and Belladonna when they were Master and Mistress of Bag End, but Bilbo had found that since he lived alone there weren’t enough mouths to consume all that he received and much of his neighbor’s hard labor was consigned to the compost the following spring. However this year, with a party of thirteen Dwarrow and a Wizard expected in April before the winter wheat and rye could be harvested, stocking his pantries and cellars would save him from scrambling about for supplies in the weeks before their arrival. If Holman was curious about Bilbo reinstating that agreement he kept his thoughts to himself, but Bilbo knew his friend might have questions later.

Bilbo spent the day out walking around Hobbiton, with a few stops throughout the day to place orders for particular items he knew he’d need. His tailor was particularly interested in his order for hard wearing traveling gear, with an oil cloth cloak and rucksack. When Bilbo explained his idea to write a collection of old Hobbit recipes and that he fully expected to hike the length and breadth of The Shire doing his research the tailor agreed that Bilbo’s every day wear, while fine for a gentle stroll about Hobbiton or short trip to Bywater or Tuchborough, was hardly suitable for hiking to the far reaches. For such a trek his clothes would need to be much more durable, and it just so happened that he’d just received a shipment of cloth he normally reserved for the Bounders due to its durability. It wasn’t long before Bilbo placed an order for three sets of trousers, two waistcoats with traveler pockets on the inside, a jacket and a Bounder’s Longcoat and Hood made from oilcloth. While making up the order Bilbo decided to hold off on ordering a rucksack, until he had made a thorough search of the closets and store rooms at Bag End. Bilbo well remembered the galloping rush of his departure last time, and how Gandalf had managed to send him out the door without anything he would normally take on even a simple daily stroll. He'd arrived at the Green Dragon huffing and puffing, wearing only his trousers, shirt, bracers and an everyday waistcoat. With no hat, jacket, pipe, coin purse, walking stick, bed roll, or pack, let alone any pocket handkerchiefs. He'd made himself a terrible burden on the company, having to borrow all of the most basic supplies from the start, and he was determined that this time he could at least gather his own traveling kit to take on the road.

As Bilbo continued to walk around Hobbiton he came across a group of fauntlings practicing their aim, throwing small stones at wooden targets hung from the branches of a lone tree in the middle of an empty pasture. Several of the older ones were practicing throws with a sling, aiming for targets on posts along the far side of the field. While it had been years since Bilbo had engaged in the pastime he remembered the words Yavanna had graced him with before she returned him to Bag End. This found Bilbo shedding his jacket and satchel and leaning his walking stick up against the fence, before asking to join the group. This caused several of the youngest to laugh, but they agreed and even helped Bilbo gather up a handful of small stones. It wasn’t long before Bilbo’s arm remembered the action of throwing and the fauntlings soon had him involved in several challenges. While he did have to ask to borrow a sling for the challenges placed by the older members of the group Bilbo made a good showing, and for several hours the air was filled by the repeated crack of sling thrown stones hitting the wooden targets. It was late afternoon when the last of the fauntlings were called home for tea or dinner, and Bilbo was quite pleased by his progress in remembering this forgotten skill. By the end of it Bilbo was hitting the center of the targets on the majority of his casts and he knew that this was one of the skills he should ‘cultivate’ for the quest. Returning the sling to the faunt he had borrowed it from, Bilbo knew he would have to stop by the tannery to pick up a roll of sinew so that he could braid his own sling. Bilbo suddenly remembered Ori and the slingshot the Dwarrow had carried before Dwalin had loaned him a warhammer. Ori’s weapon had been made from a ‘Y’ shaped piece of wood which had a strap of twisted sinew and a leather pocket attached to the short arms of the ‘Y’. That type of sling propelled its projectile through the force generated by stretching the twisted sinew and the bending of the wood. Bilbo’s sling was very different, his was made from braided cord or sinew with a loop at one end, a ‘pocket’ in the middle and a long release tail. This sling would add strength and speed to the throw of his arm and would allow him to launch projectiles up to the size of his fist with great force. A small stone, about the size of a chestnut, launched from Bilbo’s sling could kill a Man as surely as an arrow, were his aim true enough to hit his target in the head. On market day in Hobbiton there were even a couple of booths that offered ‘sling bullets’ made of kiln fired clay, for those who used a sling to hunt game or defend flocks. Another plus in Bilbo’s mind was that he would be able to practice his skill openly, as even adult Hobbits used slings in games of skill. Bounders often carried them as primary weapons or as back ups for their staves and bows, and there were several ‘ranges’ set up around The Shire to practice at.

Thinking more about the Bounders and what they carried with them to perform their duties Bilbo recalled that at one time he had considered joining them and had taken up practicing with a quarterstaff in his youth and early tweens leading up to the Fell Winter of 1311. At the time, the local Constable he’d practiced under had agreed that he’d shown talent and that if he kept it up the Bounders would be happy to have him in a couple of years. Then the Fell Winter had happened and Bilbo lost his taste for adventure. With the death of his Father, Bungo, five years later. Bilbo settled into the requirements of being the Master of Bag End, he put his quarterstaff aside in favor of his garden hoe and pipe, becoming the solid Baggins of Bag End that everyone expected him to be. Now Bilbo needed to brush off the dust from his youthful skills and prepare. His plans to travel about The Shire doing research would help quiet the inevitable questions, especially if he mentioned that his plans to track down the oldest family recipes could easily lead him clear to the Hobbit settlement in Bree, and that would mean traveling on the Great East Road where a Hobbit was bound to see Men, Dwarves and possibly Elves. Therefore it was just prudence that he should have some skill in defending himself from possible ruffians or wild beasts. Bilbo smiled to himself, while it might take a while longer for the collection of recipes to be written then his neighbors anticipated, he would have to see that it was one of the first things he did once he returned from Erebor. After all it wouldn’t do to trek about The Shire being nosy and doing all that research, which he certainly planned on doing, only to give him an excuse to be in better shape for when Thorin and Company arrived at his doorstep.

It was now late afternoon, there wasn’t enough time for Bilbo to stop by both the Tannery for sinew and the Carpenter for a new quarterstaff, so he decided to just go by the Tannery and have dinner at the Green Dragon, where he would probably pick up plenty of suggestions and methods of how best to make his new sling. With luck he would also be able to talk to a Bounder or Constable about setting up some training with the quarterstaff, before they got too deep into their cups.

Bilbo had quite a nice evening among his neighbors at the Green Dragon. Several mentioned seeing him out with the fauntlings and inquired if he was planning on participating in any of the games of skill a the upcoming Harvest Festival. Bilbo allowed that he might, but that the primary reason he was brushing up on his skills was that he expected to do a bit of traveling while researching the contents of his latest book. This announcement caused quite a stir among the hobbits in the pub, and Bilbo was very glad he’d come up with the idea for compiling a collection of old hobbit recipes, as this soothed the ruffled feathers caused by the others jumping to the conclusion that he might be traveling outside The Shire. The topic also got everyone talking about their favorite subject, food, and distracted them from unpleasant thoughts like travel. Several times in the ensuing conversation Bilbo found that he had to firmly restate that the recipes he was most interested in were the ones handed down for years, and it would be best if he could trace the origin back at least three generations. The hobbits in the pub nodded, agreeing that if he was looking back that far it might take a bit of visiting about The Shire to collect them.

At the end of the night Bilbo reassured his neighbors that he would be grateful for anything they wanted to contribute. He climbed the Hill back to Bag End with Holman, who had come to the Green Dragon for an evening ale. During their walk Bilbo made plans to work the next morning in the garden, there were onions and garlic ready to be braided into ropes for storage and bales of hay to be spread to protect the pumpkins, winter squash, and root vegetables from any early frosts. The summer compost needed turning and last years mound was ready to be spread over the beds that would be planted in the early spring. For the afternoon Bilbo had made plans to meet with one of the local constables to begin his review of how to handle a quarterstaff.

Bilbo spent the next few weeks walking the trails around Hobbiton, practicing with his sling and quarterstaff and planning his fiftieth birthday. Invitations were sent out to family and friends, but as this wasn’t a ‘banner’ year Bilbo knew he could keep the group fairly small. The weather continued to be pleasant and mild, so Bilbo made plans to hold the festivities outside in the garden of Bag End under a modest pavilion. Preparations began the day before with the ovens fired up to bake pastries and pies and the roasting pit cleared out in anticipation of the slow roast boar Bilbo had arranged with the butcher. With the help of Holman Greenhand, and his Aunts Ruby Baggins and Donnamira Boffin, everything was prepared by the time the first guests arrived. Bilbo had modest gifts for all his guests, some things were recycled from gifts he had received years before, or even gifts once given to his parents. Bilbo was pleased to find quite appropriate things among the shelves and storerooms of his smial, with the added bonus of the older items not having been seen in so long their recipients thought they were new, or at least newly acquired. In all the day was quite enjoyable, with plenty of food and drink, music and storytelling, and many expressions of interest in Bilbo’s newest venture from hobbits curious to learn the secrets of their neighbor’s ‘famous’ dishes. Once again Bilbo found that he had to explain that he planned for the contents of the book to record the truly old family recipes that had fallen out of use due to the scarcity of ingredients, or being too bothersome to make. Bilbo also explained that he was looking for recipes that described methods of preparing and cooking with wild ingredients, beyond nuts, berries, and mushrooms. That really got the hobbits present at his party thinking, and Bilbo was optimistic that given a few days he would be able to start asking around and get started on his research.

Bilbo scoured his storeroom and closets for gear he knew he would need for both his trekking around The Shire and his future journey to Erebor. Much to his relief Bilbo discovered that he had the makings of a decent travel kit in his possession, he just hadn’t had time to find it all and pack properly in the mad rush of their departure last time. Looking over his gathered items, Bilbo made a short list of things he could upgrade or that needed replacing. While he could use a new bedroll, and a more robust rucksack, Bilbo had been thrilled to find Belladonna’s mess kit from when she’d traveled in her youth. It was a cunning thing, consisting of a small fry pan, cook pot, tin plate, tin cup, fork, spoon, and a collapsable grill, which all nested together and locked into a single package. Taking a close look at it Bilbo was fairly sure the kit was of Dwarven manufacture considering the skill with which it was made, but he was not able to find a maker's mark. Bilbo also found a small writing kit which stored in a little wooden box with a tight fitting lid, it would be easy to replace the quills and ink to put the kit back in service, and an oiled leather map case, which would be useful for toting extra parchment. Bilbo thought with a little dusting and polishing these would make a fine gift to Ori at some point, as he already had his own traveling writing kit. There was also a small oilcloth bag filled with bandages and a sewing kit, that Bilbo knew would come in very helpful. Bilbo decided that he could use a new belt knife as Belladonna’s old one had lost its tip somewhere along the way and its bone handle was badly cracked. There was also a small bag filled with little tins, it took a bit of prying and poking, but Bilbo realized that the tins were meant for carrying dried herbs and salt for cooking, a bit of luxury for the road. While the containers needed cleaning, and the old herbs needed replacing, the box of salt was still sealed with wax, showing it had never been used. This was a real prize, as salt was an expensive seasoning.

\--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--

Bilbo spent much of the winter hiking across The Shire, visiting all the villages and towns. Although the weather was often cold and wet, it was not a bad time to be traveling for his research. It also had the benefit of helping Bilbo harden up for the cold and wet he knew he would experience in the mountains during his upcoming quest. As this was the time of year when most Hobbits spent the bulk of their time gathered around their fireplaces, working at hand crafts best done indoors or spending time swapping stories and tales at the local pubs, Bilbo found it quite easy to get the small gatherings of Hobbits he found in the local inns and pubs talking about their favorite dishes. He collected reams of recipes from all four Farthings even before venturing to the Hobbit settlement in Bree. Bilbo hadn't expected his idea to be quite so popular. However, as word got out he would find folks gathering in anticipation of his arrival at the local inns, with copies of their family favorites already transcribed, including notations about who had passed it down, or if it was an 'original' recipe. Bilbo gladly accepted whatever was offered realizing that his initial plans to interview older Hobbits to get the oldest of recipes would tie him up for months longer than he had available before the Dwarves arrived. The other thing he quickly realized was that there would be months of work after he returned from Erebor, of sorting, comparing and weeding out duplicates before he'd be able to start on what was shaping up to have the potential of being a multiple volume set.

As he walked the trails and roads of The Shire, Bilbo often found himself in the company of the Bounders who were tasked with patrolling the length and breadth of the lands where Hobbits lived. Not wanting to pass up the opportunity, Bilbo constantly asked his travel companions for help in honing his traveling skills, or to continue his efforts to train with sling and quarterstaff. They were generally accepting of his requests and Bilbo soon knew the best ways to find dry wood, prepare a cooking fire, and how to set up a comfortable shelter for his bedroll in any weather. His skills with his quarterstaff continued to improve to the point where several Bounders he met were asking for him to teach them some moves they'd not seen before, and he regularly had meat for the cook fire with the rabbits or squirrels he caught with the use of his sling. Bilbo also earned himself a fox tail for helping a farmer rid himself of the pest, who'd taken up raiding his chicken coop on a regular basis. One of the Bounders he was traveling with at the time taught him how to preserve and tan it, replacing the bones with a length of rope to keep it flexible. Bilbo wasn't sure what he'd do with the 'trophy', but after that he did see several other Bounders with fox, or tails from other known pests, hung on their packs, or from the waistband of their Longcoats.

As the Yule season approached, Bilbo made a point of visiting with both his Brandybuck and Took relations. The fact that the Great Smials of the Tooks and Brandy Hall of Buckland were almost on opposite sides of The Shire only helped Bilbo's efforts to increase his endurance and prepare for the journey ahead. While Bilbo continued to collect recipes from his relatives, he also had an additional reason for visiting the Tooks and Brandybucks. Of all the Hobbits in The Shire, they would be the most understanding and accepting of his quest. Last time the journey to Erebor and back had taken almost two and a half years, and Bilbo had arrived home in the midst of the auction of his estate as he'd been declared dead. The legal ramifications from that state of affairs had plagued him for years and Bilbo would much rather avoid that complication if at all possible this time around. Therefore, Bilbo wrote up a contract to hire Holman Greenhand as caretaker of his property, and composed his will. He then made appointments with both the Master of Buckland, Gorbadoc Brandybuck, and the Thain of The Shire, Fortinbras Took II, to go over the documents with them and have them registered in both places in preparation for his extended leave from Bag End. While it was true that Gorbadoc was Bilbo's Uncle and Fortinbras was his cousin once removed, the positions of Master of Buckland and Thain of The Shire held enough authority among Hobbits to ensure that Bilbo's wishes would be followed. In particular Bilbo wanted it known that his contract with Holman would remain in force unless one of two qualifications were met, and preferably both. First, that solid proof was brought to both the Master of Buckland and Thain of The Shire of Bilbo's death, or second that ten years had passed since Bilbo was confirmed to be in the lands of The Shire. In the case of those qualifications being met then Holman's contract would expire, the Master of Buckland and Thain of The Shire would declare Bilbo deceased and enact his will. In his will Bilbo made it clear that the smial known as 'Bag End' would revert to Took ownership, for it was built by his father for Belladonna Took as her dower home, using a good portion of her money.

By the time the days were growing noticeably longer and the worst of the winter weather past Bilbo was feeling fairly confident about his ability to at least not make a fool of himself during the journey to Erebor. He now had at least a passing skill with his quarterstaff and sling, so he wouldn't feel so defenseless, which was a huge improvement over the last time. Also he'd put together a quite serviceable travel kit, and tested it in just about every condition. With all his preparations nearing completion, Bilbo was starting to look forward to his upcoming adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For information about the type of Sling I have Bilbo using check out the information at: slinging.org or look up "Shepard's Sling" on YouTube. This is a valid weapon of war, historically the Greeks would field teams of slingers during their battles.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopping back to Thorin's Hall for this one to see how things are coming together in preparation for the Company to embark on their journey to Erebor. - Cheers!

“Don't forget, you're meeting with Balin today to go over the final draft of the contract for the Dwarrow and a draft of the contract for that burglar Tharkûn said he’s found for you. You're going to have some full days ahead if you plan on meeting up with Tharkûn in the Shire by the end of April.” Dís' voice called from his doorway as the first light of morning lit his windows.

Thorin nodded as he gathered up his clothes and bath supplies, “I know, but if we have good riding and pack ponies we should get there in plenty of time.”

“Ponies? Thorin I don't have to remind you that times have been lean since before we left Dunland. Sure there's iron, copper, lead and tin to mine and work here which is an improvement, but trade is thin. Most of what we produce has to go in trade for food and winter supplies. How can you expect to afford outfitting an expedition with riding and pack ponies?”

Thorin felt his shoulders sag under his sister's glare. Everything she'd said was true, his Clan was surviving here at Thorin's Hall, but it certainly wasn't thriving. The small pockets of silver or gold they found were only enough to trade for the rare luxury or feast. In part that was what was driving Thorin to pursue this chance to reclaim Erebor, he remembered what had been lost at the arrival of Smaug and the years of effort his Clan had spent since, just to scrape by. Thorin also had a vague memory of this conversation with Dís and how he had just blustered his way through it, dismissing her concerns and pushing what she'd said aside. Now, with his memories of the future Thorin found himself unable to act in such a fashion, “I got a bit extra for the blades in Lunehurst, the guard captain was quite pleased with the work, and Óin and Glóin have pledged their support to the venture, it will have to be enough. Honestly Dís, I don't know if I’ll be able to convince many more Dwarrow to join me in this when I ask the community today, but, as Tharkûn said, this quest of mine will need to rely more on speed and stealth than force of arms.”

“Thorin... Our Father tried it that way and it was the last we saw him. How can you believe this attempt will be any different?”

“There have been signs...”

“What! You mean that twaddle Óin was going on about when he got back from trading at Bridgeport?”

Thorin nodded, “More than that, there’s the dream I had when I found out that I’m a Stonetalker and what Tharkûn told me when we met. Dís as you’ve said, our Clan is just surviving here, and while we may do that for years to come, there is a chance that Dwarrows could be great again; a chance for us to be known as more than just coalminers and blacksmiths... You're too young to truly remember what we had at Erebor... the vaulted halls, the marketplaces and galleries, the deep mines and bright forges. All you have are our stories, and that's not enough.”

Dís lowered her head, knowing Thorin was correct as he continued, “Do you remember the ruins of Belegost and Nogrod that we searched before we settled here?”

She nodded, “Yes, but what does that have to do with this?”

“You saw the ruins, saw the spaces and what was left of those Dwarf Holds. I can honestly say that what we had at Erebor was grander, the skills that Dwarrow were just learning when Belegost and Nogrod were built were mastered when our people held Khazad-Dûm and put into practice in Erebor,” Thorin sighed, “I'm not doing this only for myself, or for the Clan, Dís. As a people we Dwarrow need to show the other races what we can do, what we have done.”

“And you feel retaking Erebor is the best way to do that?” Dís shook her head, “By Mahal, why not try for Khazad-Dûm?”

“I'd much rather face a single dragon over whatever force has had time to spawn from the orcs and goblins left after the battle of Azanulibizar. We lost that opportunity when the Clans refused to lend their aid with clearing the tunnels after Dáin killed Azog. Nor have I forgotten the stories of what our hunger for Mithril stirred from its slumber in the depths.” Thorin shook his head, “No, the Halls of Khazad-Dûm are still closed to us.”

“Thorin, only a handful of Dwarrow have pledged themselves to this venture, and now you tell me that you don’t expect many more to volunteer? Can’t you wait? Send word to Dáin and the others asking them for aid!” Dís pleaded.

Thorin looked at Dis sadly, “If the years had been kinder, or our fortunes better I might be able to convince the others to lend some aid, but our position is not much better than where we were at the end of the battle of Azanulibizar when the Clans refused. No, I don’t think we can wait on this. With what Óin heard at Bridgeport, my discussion with Tharkûn in Lunehurst and the dreams I’ve had, I feel like we’re running short of time even before we begin. Others will have heard the same ‘portents’ that Óin has and their eyes will be drawn to Erebor and the fortune they’ve heard is inside. It has been more than sixty years since Smaug has been seen outside the mountain and time makes the memories of fire and death fade, especially among those who were not present. Would you see Erebor lost to the hands of Men, or Orcs, simply because we did not try?”

“You think Men would try?”

“Their lives are not like ours Dís, sixty years is enough time for the threat of the dragon to be reduced to naught but a old man’s tale spun in an alehouse. Plenty of time for the hint of treasure or chance of gold to outweigh the risks in the minds of young men who believe themselves to be heroes.”

Thorin could see that Dís was still having a hard time accepting his need and the feelings of urgency that gripped him, “Sister, you have been watching me closely these past weeks, even more so since I gained the gift of Stonetalking. You’ve seen the lightening of my soul, and have told me that I am a better Dwarrow for it. I truly believe that the lifting of sorrow and old pain from my heart is a gift from Mahal because I am walking the path he has set before me. That it is his wish that we return to Erebor and that we do it now.”

“Very well, I don’t know how you expect to succeed with such a small party, even if you get a few more volunteers today, but you seem to have at least put a little more thought into this than hieing off just because Tharkûn told you to. If this is truly Mahal’s will... there’s not anything I can do or say to keep you here. I suppose that you expect me to keep things in hand and start preparations to move everyone when you send word of your success?”

Thorin juggled the clothes in his arms to free a hand, drawing his sister close and resting his forehead against hers. “I would be lost without your support.”

“Aye, and don't you forget it, you stubborn mule.” Dís answered with a grin, “Take care of my boys Thorin. They're all I treasure besides you.”

From the hall outside both Thorin and Dís heard Kíli's joyful cry of “Yes!” followed by the sound of pounding footsteps as he ran to tell his brother the good news. Thorin snickered at his youngest nephew's enthusiasm as he gave the back of Dís' neck a reassuring squeeze. “You know I care for those two as if they were my own, but all I can promise is that I'll do my best.”

“That is all I can ask of you. Whether I like it or not they are both adults and I need to let them make their own decisions. As your heir Fíli needs to learn more about the world outside the Hall, and Kíli needs to learn how best to support him.”

“Aye, but something tells me that at times they won't much care for how those lessons are taught.” Thorin grumbled as his mind replayed portions of his memories of the last time he had taken this trip. “Now, you best check on things in your kitchen before whatever you planned for breakfast is beyond rescue. I'll be there once I'm dressed.”

Dís gave his forehead a quick thump before heading out of his room, leaving Thorin to contemplate his next moves. Having lived through this once before, there were several things he now knew to change to make future events easier. Today though, there would be very little change in plans, after breakfast he would meet with Balin to go over the contract and he would ring the bell in the Keep to summon the Clan to a meeting. Mid-morning he would present his plans for traveling to retake Erebor to the Clan and ask one last time for any additional volunteers.

Joining the others at breakfast Thorin scowled at Fíli and Kíli who could not sit still as they ate. “Alright lads, after you've eaten help your mother clean up the dishes. Then I want you both to pack what you think you'll need for this trip. I'll check your work after the meeting of the Clan to see if what you choose will work. Remember this won't be like a jaunt down to Bridgeport or Lunehurst where most of your stuff can stay on a barge or at an inn. Plan that you'll be carrying what you take on your back. Oh, and I don't want you asking your mother for help. After all she won't be coming with us.”

Both Fíli and Kíli were quick to nod and start clearing the empty dishes from the table. Dís looked at them fondly, but realized that they would be bouncing off the walls until she got fed up with their behavior and sent them outside. It wouldn't be bad to send them out to hunt, while she felt that they had only a slim chance of being successful if they brought back anything it would mean more smoked and dried meat that could pack when they set out with Thorin.

***************************

Thorin made his way up to the keep and into the Library where he found Balin looking over several old contracts and comparing them to the one he'd written for Thorin's company.

“Ah Thorin, just making sure I've got everything covered. The contracts for the Dwarrow are all finished, but the one for the Halfling... I can't find anywhere in our records that we've ever had one of them join us in any similar ventures. I've contracts of trade with them for food and pipeweed, and I've found a couple of examples where they've hired Dwarrow for work in excavation and stone quarrying, but that's all.”

“Well one of the first things to be sure of, Tharkûn made it quite clear, they prefer to be called Hobbits, not Halflings, because they'll be first to tell you that 'they're not _Half_ of anything'. Also be as clear as you can be about the possibilities and eventualities without stating things too grandly. Hobbits find greater value in hearthside comforts and the support of their kin and kith than they do in gold or gems.”

“Then what can we offer as compensation?” Balin asked puzzled, as he scratched down notes for re-writing the contract.

“Hm, well if the Hobbit has had dealings with Dwarrow before, then they'll be expecting an offer of payment in gold and gems.” Thorin said thoughtfully, “So you may as well include that. Just don't go into minute detail about all the possible contingencies where the clause about funerary expenses kick in. It is enough to say that should they suffer injury that they will receive care and compensation for loss of ability, if they should die then their remains will be treated with respect and returned to their families if possible.”

“Well that should be simple enough. I'm still not happy with leaving the terms of compensation so vague...”

“Balin,” Thorin interrupted, “when we were driven out of Erebor, the treasuries held enough loose coin to drowned in, not to mention the ingots and jewelry. Do you really think Smaug would see it lessened? Unless a Dwarrow has completely lost their senses to gold sickness, there is enough treasure in Erebor to ensure a life of idle luxury for every Dwarrow living in Ered Luin today out to their children's children.”

Balin nodded, “You would be more familiar with what was left than I. We were both quite young...”

“Both you and Dís were still clinging to your mothers' skirts. While I don't doubt you have memories of the day when Smaug took Erebor, what can you truly remember of her when even I barely recall her majesty?” Thorin replied longingly, “We lost so much when that overgrown flying lizard landed on our doorstep, not just the wealth of gold, silver and gems, but our culture and heritage. Balin, if we are successful, or somehow manage to defeat Smaug ourselves, I want to see Erebor take up the old practices again.”

“Old practices?” Balin asked, unsure what Thorin was talking about.

“I want Erebor rebuilt to be like the Dwarf Holds of the First Age, like the ones before we became so reliant on assistance from Men and Elves. A Hold with workings both in her depths and on her slopes, in her vales and foothills and at her heights. Make Erebor a stronghold not just for Dwarrow, but for Men and Elves as well.” Thorin explained.

“You would forgive Thranduil?”

“Balin, this Spring has wrought many changes in me, I'm sure you've seen it. I've not hidden that I am now a Stonetalker, nor that I've been having dreams which I believe come from Mahal directly. I feel that I'm being gently pushed toward this course of action.” Thorin tried to explain, “I believe that there is something ahead for us that when we look back we'll see that our quest for Erebor will be viewed as an opening move in a greater game. If we regain Erebor and strengthen her with aid and acceptance from not just the Clans, but our neighbors there as well... It will only make that opening move into one which gives us an advantage... One I think we'll be grateful for when the game is upon us.”

“So, you would forgive Thranduil?”

“Aye, it will not be easy. His ill will towards my Grandfather and Father was well earned, and the pain my heart bears at his refusal of aid after Smaug drove us out still bites at times... But I also remember that Thrór refused him first, demanding soldiers to mount an attack against Smaug over care for our wounded and newly orphaned children.” Thorin dropped his head in sorrow. “With our departure Thranduil has lived with the threat of Smaug hovering over his lands for a hundred and seventy years. The source of that threat can be placed firmly at my Grandfather's feet. I do not expect he will welcome us with open arms, but I have to hope that when we meet he will see reason and not keep us from our quest.”

“I'd say we should avoid the Wood Elves altogether. The fact that we plan to sneak into Erebor to try and make off with a piece of treasure will only rouse Smaug from slumber and put the beast into a terrible temper.”

“And that is the problem,” Thorin agreed. “One of the tasks for our burglar will be to scout out Smaug's weakness so that we know where to strike, or at least make it possible to pass word to others and do whatever damage we can. Part of that will be to warn both the Wood Elves and the citizens of Esgaroth, for I cannot see a way around waking Smaug, if he still lives.”

“I do not like it, but as you say I can see no way around it.” Balin grumbled, “It will take some fast talking and negotiation to convince them that this is the best course of action... Thorin, I'd like you to consider including an official recorder in the party. It would free me up to be your advisor, which would strengthen your position if you're figuring we'll need to negotiate with both the Men and Wood Elves.”

“Who do you suggest?”

“My apprentice Ori is capable, and more than ready to become a journeyman. It's not like there are too many opportunities for this kind of work here. I've been training him as I was trained, in hope that someday he could serve Fíli as I have served you.”

“Very well, he is over his majority?” Thorin asked, to which Balin answered with a nod, “Good, he will be a welcome addition. I plan on going over Fíli and Kíli's packs this afternoon after I speak to the Hall and ask for other volunteers. Have him put together a kit and meet us at the training grounds mid-afternoon. I want to see how well prepared he is, and I'll have Dwalin test to see how well he defends himself. That will give us an idea about what we need to work on while we travel.”

“Might not be a bad idea to do that myself,” Balin commented. “I've seen you practicing with Dwalin and the others, and I'll admit I could be a little rusty. I've been spending too much time here in the Library.”

“Then I'll see you there too. Like I told the lads this morning, pack what you think you'll need for this trip, but remember it isn't a trip to Bridgeport or Lunehurst. Plan that you'll be carrying what you take on your back, and leave room for plenty of food and water. While I hope that we'll be able to have ponies for the whole journey I don't want to rely on that.”

Balin nodded, “Aye, that's wise. It's a long way from here to Erebor over plenty of tough terrain. We may run into places where ponies can't go.”

“About time for me to ring the bell and call folks together,” Thorin commented as he looked out the window. “Would you care to join me, or work more on the contract?”

“I'll come with.” Balin said as he cleaned his pen and rose from his seat, “You should have a few friendly faces in the crowd.”

Thorin nodded his thanks and made his way across the yard to the keep, where the bell hung. Many of the Dwarrow of Thorin's Hall were already present, milling around outside the longhouse used for town meetings. Thorin rang the heavy bell to call any stragglers and proceeded inside. He gave the assembled Dwarrow about a quarter of an hour to allow the last to arrive and settle before beginning his presentation on the proposed venture to reclaim Erebor. The discussion which followed was very similar to the one held a week earlier in the Baths, and Thorin could see many Dwarrow in the crowd shaking their heads in refusal; it was too far; too risky; there was not enough proof that this was the time to act; no appeal had been made to the other Clans for aid; they were too old, and their kin were too young. Thorin heard all of those reasons and more from the assembled Dwarrow and he knew that once again his company would consist of thirteen Dwarrow, one Hobbit and an occasional Wizard.

Thorin wrapped up the meeting and joined Bifur to work on some Stonetalking, which ended up with an invitation to lunch at his cousin Bombur's home. Thorin was pleased to accept, remembering Bombur's cooking skill from before and looking forward to trying it when Bombur had access to his own kitchen. Upon their arrival, Bifur was swarmed by a pack of young Dwarrow. It took a minute or two for Thorin to get an accurate count and he was amazed by his final total of six, all looking to be under the age of twenty, and filling the air with a bright chatter in old Khudzul as they greeted Bifur. It wasn't long before a strong looking Dwarrow came outside with another youngster perched on her hip.

“You must be Thorin,” she said in a deep voice, “I'm Bawren, Bombur's wife and mother to this raging horde. Bifur and Bofur have both told me you're one to pay attention to, they say you've got strong Stonetalker blood. They're impressed by your skill to hear life through stone, and truth through iron. I've also heard tell that you've got an adventure in the works, and both Bofur and Bifur have signed on as well as pledging their fealty to you and your line?”

“That's right, and I'm thankful for their service. Their lessons and skills are greatly appreciated.” Thorin answered.

Bawren stared at Thorin and he suddenly felt like a stone being examined under a jeweler's glass. The Dwarrow must have seen something she liked as she suddenly nodded and spoke, “You'll be takin' my Bombur with ya as well. Else I'll worry you're not takin' care of yourself. Mahal knows with three Stonetalkers in your company you'll need someone to make sure you eat regular like, can't have you driftin' off and forgettin' the basic necessities.”

After her statement that Thorin would be including Bombur in the company Bawren invited them inside. Lunch was chaotic with all the little ones about, but the food was very good and everyone got enough. Thorin regretted that he had to leave to meet up with his nephews at the training yard, but as he mentioned his plans Bawren shooed him off and said she'd be sending Bifur and Bombur over once they'd packed. Not willing to go against the will of such a forceful Dwarrow, Thorin thanked Bombur for a fine meal and headed out to the training grounds at the Keep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time's getting closer for the Dwarves to arrive in Hobbiton. Let's see how Bilbo is getting on with a little advanced notice from Bofur.

The first indication Bilbo got that things were really different this time around was when a Dwarf arrived in Hobbiton at the end of March. He came as part of the first caravan of traders bound from the Grey Havens and Lunehurst, traveling East toward Bree and the start of the Greenway. However, instead of continuing with the group the Dwarf arranged to set up a stall at the Hobbiton market and rented a room at the Green Dragon Inn. Even then Bilbo might have considered the Dwarf's arrival as something that had slipped his mind, except that he was known to Bilbo. It was hard to forget Bofur, the jolly Dwarf who had a pipe perpetually clamped between his teeth, wore a rather disreputable shearling hat and sang bawdy songs from atop the tables in the ale house, much to the entertainment of the local Hobbits. It wasn’t until a fortnight after Bofur’s arrival that Bilbo learned some of the reason behind his visit, along with something he'd previously never known. It was fairly late one evening as Bilbo was climbing the narrow road back up to Bag End on his way home after spending the last couple of days in Bywater, tracking down versions of Daisy Chubbs’ rag pickle recipe and Hawthorn Bolger’s carrot pudding, that he came across Bofur stomping along the path and muttering to himself as he glared at the ground.

“You are looking quite out of sorts this evening Master Dwarf, is there anything I can assist you with?” Bilbo asked, “Have you lost something important that has you glaring at the ground so fiercely?” If Bilbo was pleased to startle Bofur into scrambling around and almost losing his hat, he tried very hard to keep it to himself.

“No… Can’t exactly lose what I’ve not yet found, can I.” Bofur grumbled as he resettled his hat, “Bofur, at your service Master Hobbit,” he sketched a bow and continued to look at the ground as if it had betrayed him.

“Bilbo Baggins, at you and your family’s,” Bilbo returned. “If you don’t mind me asking, just what are you looking for?”

Bofur peered at Bilbo as he weighed his options, what he was looking for wasn’t really worth anything unless you happened to be a Stonetalker, but that was not spoken about to non-Dwarrow. Yet, Thorin had asked Bofur to approach Mr. Baggins about the possibility of joining their venture to Erebor, and if the Hobbit was traveling with a company of Dwarrow then there would be a strong chance for him to learn more about Dwarrow than the average non-Dwarrow, just from observation. It was that fact that had Bofur continuing, “Well, I’m looking for exposed bedrock.”

“Exposed bedrock? what for?”

“How much do you know of the natural abilities of Dwarves, Mr. Baggins?”

“What most folks know I’d guess. Dwarves are durable, quite often stronger than they appear. They are very skilled when working with metal or stone, and are able to navigate through caves and underground passages in full darkness.” Bilbo offered, knowing that this was slightly more than his neighbors would say.

Bofur nodded, “True enough, we Dwarves have strong ties to rock and stone, and for some of us when we’re away from it for too long can start to feel a little… I guess ‘homesick’ for lack of a better term.”

“Oh!” Bilbo exclaimed, “and are you feeling that way?”

“Aye, it’s not bad yet, but I’ve found it hard to sleep the past few nights. Like the bed is too soft, I wake up all achy.”

Bilbo nodded in understanding, “I see, have you tried over near The Water or down by the mill?”

“I looked there first, but I’d rather not go for a swim at this time of year and the only bedrock I could find is in the swiftest part of the stream.” Bofur answered with a shudder, “I can feel some other places nearby, but when I get close I find that it is under someone’s home and I’m not sure the folks around here wouldn’t think I wasn’t going to help myself to their store of ale or pipeweed iffn I asked to be let into their cellars.” Bofur sounded decidedly sheepish by the end of his explanation, but he couldn’t deny that his Stonetalker senses were feeling prickly and unsettled for the last few days. It had been more than a fortnight since he had touched bedrock, which was several days longer than he’d ever gone without before. It had never crossed Bofur’s mind that there could be places in Arda where he wouldn’t be able to touch the rock that made up the bones of the earth, and it wasn't like the bones were missing from The Shire. They were here, just buried so far under the dirt, soil and loam that it would take him several days work with his mattock and shovel to get close to them.

Bilbo watched as Bofur showed more and more signs of his discomfort as he explained what he needed. Once the Dwarf finished Bilbo gave him an indulgent smile, “Well, I’m sure if you’d explained it you would have found something before now, but it just so happens that I own a very fine cellar carved into bedrock. You are quite welcome to have access to it for as long as you are in Hobbiton, provided you’re willing to lend me a hand with a couple of small projects, and maybe share a story or two?”

Bofur agreed easily as he followed Bilbo up the narrow road to the top of The Hill to the gate at the end of the gardens for Bag End. Bilbo stopped at the round green door to his smial and pointed to a bench that stood beside it, “Now, I know how fond you Dwarves are of your boots, but they do tend to track in acres of mud and dirt. I try very hard to keep my floors well polished and rugs clean. I’ve got a boot tray just inside the door, so we won’t leave them outside, but please take them off here.”

Bofur was quick to comply to Bilbo’s request, even from here he could feel a sizable amount of bedrock nearby. Peeling off his socks, he stuffed them down into his boots before bouncing up with an eager grin. Bilbo let out a laugh at seeing the goofiness he associated with Bofur make an appearance as he welcomed the Dwarf into Bag End. With a quick clatter Bofur dropped his boots into the waiting tray, then stood, barely keeping still on the hall rug, waiting for Bilbo to show the way. With a bright smile Bilbo led Bofur to his deepest cellar and chuckled when Bofur let out a gusty sigh of obvious relief before sinking down to lay sprawled out on the floor.

“Feel free to stay as long as you need Master Bofur. If you fall asleep, I’ll be sure to wake you in time for breakfast.” Bilbo said quietly as he turned to leave the cellar. 

Bofur barely registered Bilbo’s voice as he was welcomed by the stone under his body. He began to hum with his stone voice, just to let the others know he was listening. Bofur figured it would be a couple of hours for him to get a response if Bifur or Thorin had anything to say, once they knew he was listening. Meanwhile, Bofur found it very comfortable just to lie on the stone, surrounded by Mr. Baggins’ crocks of pickles, racks of wine, casks of ale and mead, and shelves of preserves with the occasional wax covered wheel of cheese.

In the morning Bilbo took a quick look into his storeroom to find Bofur sleeping soundly on the bare stone floor. He gathered up supplies to make a hearty breakfast and made his way to the kitchen to stoke up the fires and start cooking. It was early, the sun was still climbing over the horizon when Bofur stumbled into the kitchen and took a seat at the table upon Bilbo's direction.

“Tha' smells amazin'” Bofur murmured sleepily, “'minds me o' my brother's cookin'”

Bilbo chuckled as he put a full plate and a mug of strong tea down in front of the bleary eyed dwarf, “Well I hope you enjoy the taste as much as the smell, Master Bofur. Did you sleep well?”

“Aye, you've a very comfortable cellar. It was just what I needed. Being away from rock for so long... Never thought I'd be somewhere her voice couldn't reach me.”

“Her voice?” Bilbo asked.

Bofur nodded as he finished a bite of breakfast, “We Dwarves think of stone and rock to be like our Mother, the source of what makes us. She 'speaks' to us. It's how we know things about the earth, like you said last night, we can find our way underground and such because the rock and stone tells us how things are and which way to go.”

“But you need to touch rock or stone to hear?”

“That's the base of it, and some Dwarves can hear and feel things better than others. So being away from rock and stone and unable to hear her is hard.” Bofur agreed.

“Well like I said last night, you're welcome to make use of my cellar anytime, in exchange for lending me a hand with a few of the spring chores and a story or two.”

“I can do that, so long as I also have time to sell things at the market.”

“Good, we can gather your things from the Green Dragon later today, and I'll set you up in one of the inside guest rooms.” Bilbo declared as he finished eating and poured himself more tea.

“There's no need to do that Master Baggins!” Bofur exclaimed in surprise.

“Nonsense! It is my pleasure, and don't think I'll have you just sitting idle while you're here. I saw your stall down in the market, and with your skills at woodworking I'm sure you'll find it easy to help out with what I have in mind. Also it's not like I don't have the room, Bag End is really too large for a single Hobbit like myself.”

“I was wondering if you had a Missus or Kin once I'd felt how many rooms there are.”

“I've lived alone here for quite some time,” Bilbo answered. “My Father built Bag End as part of my Mother's dowery, and she came from a large family. When I was young we always had her Sisters, Brothers and their children dropping by.”

“Do they still visit?”

“Not often anymore. Most of my older Aunts, Uncles and Cousins don't travel much anymore, and the younger ones are kept busy raising their own families.” Bilbo had a sip of tea, then continued, “'course, those are just my Mother's relations, the Tooks and Brandybucks. There are still members of my Father's family close by, but Da was considered a bit of a black sheep in his family for marrying Mother, so they don't visit much. How about you, do you have family other than the brother you mentioned?”

“Aye, I've a cousin Bifur. We're both toy makers now a days.” Bofur explained, “'though I used to be a miner. My brother Bombur is the best baker and cook in Thorin's Hall, and his wife is kept busy takin' care of their houseful of littlin's.”

“So you've come all the way to Hobbiton from Thorin's Hall, that's Northwest past Lunehurst, right?”

“Yep, it's just under a hundred leagues from here.”

“That's quite a distance to come just for a booth at the market.” Bilbo commented.

“True, but my wares do pretty well here in The Shire. I've held a booth in the market at Michel Delvin' a couple o' times and made a good profit. This year I thought I might see how it went at someplace inside The Shire proper and a friend recommended Hobbiton.”

“So how have things been for you here?” Bilbo asked, honestly interested in how his friend was doing.

“Good, quite good. The toys have been selling well, and you're not the first to ask about hiring me for my woodworking skill. Although, from what I've seen around here, Hobbits have quite a knack with woodworking of their own.”

“I think you may find, Master Bofur, that Hobbits, for all our reputation of being insular and untrusting of races larger than ourselves, which includes just about anyone not a Hobbit, are also intensely curious. I'm sure many of those requests are from folks wanting to learn how you do your work differently from how they know, or possibly just for the novelty of ending up with something they can brag to their friends and neighbors is of Dwarven make, as one of the things Dwarves are highly regarded for is their skill with their chosen craft.”

Bofur nodded, smiling around the stem of his unlit pipe, “That's alright, it's not uncommon when I go to a new market. Especially in a place not known for having much trade with Dwarves. I don't mind, as long as folks are respectful, and I've been treated very well here.”

Bilbo returned Bofur's smile and offered a second helping of eggs, toast and grilled tomatoes, along with another mug of strong tea. The two of them finished their breakfast in relative silence, with only the appreciative clatter of cutlery on china accompanying them. Afterward Bofur helped with the washing up and split more wood for the kitchen stoves and the brick oven in the garden. Bilbo ended up shooing him off to the market, telling Bofur that he'd drop by the Green Dragon around mid-day and would bring Bofur's things back to Bag End.

Holman Greenhand caught Bilbo's attention as he sent Bofur off, “Mr. Bilbo sir, are you planning on hosting your guest for a spell?”

Bilbo nodded, “I've offered Bofur a place to stay while he's here in Hobbiton. I found him last night wandering around looking rather distressed. Turns out I learned something new about Dwarves because of it.”

“Oh? What's that then?” Holman asked.

“We all know that Dwarves say that they're made from stone, right?” Bilbo asked and saw Holman nod, “Well it turns out that rather like we Hobbits need good rich growing earth under our feet to feel comfortable, Dwarves need rock and stone. Only problem is that around here we've mostly got deep fields of rich earth and soil, and very little exposed bedrock.”

“Hm, 'suppose I can see that making a fella feel a mite unsettled. You sure he weren't in his cups Mr. Bilbo? There's been plenty a night where's he's been whoopin' it up at the Dragon, wi' some of the young lads.”

“No, he was sober enough, and he's looking much better this morning. Last evening he looked quite ill, pale and shaking, but not like he'd been drinking. When I offered him a chance to stay in my cellar and brought him inside Bag End he was practically vibrating with eagerness. Once he'd gone inside he settled on the floor and fell asleep like an exhausted puppy, crashed right out. I didn't have the heart to wake him before I turned in.”

“Well, if you're certain Mr. Bilbo... But you best let me know if he causes any trouble.”

“Oh, I'm sure Master Bofur will be a fine guest. I'm thinking of asking him to lend a hand with some of the heavier tasks we have around here. You've been complaining about those stumps in the orchard, and I'd love to get the last unfinished guest room outfitted. Maybe it's finally time to go through the storerooms to sort out what might go to use at Brandy Hall, The Great Smials, or even to any less fortunate families around here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite so, I've been thinking about it for a while now and with all the trekking I've done around The Shire these last months I've seen that there are folks who could use what I've only been storing away.” Bilbo patted his much trimmer belly, “I'm going to need a whole new wardrobe anyway, most of my clothes from last year no longer fit.”

“I'd been meaning to ask Mr. Bilbo iffn' you'd plans to keep hiking about. I wasn't sure at first, but it looks to be doin' you quite a good turn.” Holman said sagely.

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“Well, beggin' your pardon Mr. Bilbo, but I remember how Mrs. Belladonna was before Mr. Bungo died. She always seemed... oh I don't know... somehow brighter and more alive when she'd just got back from visitin' out to Buckland or Tuchborough. Guess it comes from those Took roots in her, like some plants need to have the soil stirred up and loosened to grow best, I think those with Took blood do best when they can wander for a spell every now and then.” Holman explained with a shrug, “Seems to me that you might be fixin' to take a wander of your own someday soon, and when you do it's gonna take you out of The Shire for a while. Why else would you write up that contract and put me in charge of keeping The Hill and Bag End in shape, all official like?”

Bilbo blinked, “Holman, I just thought you should be recognized for some of the things you already do for me beyond the gardening. You've been a great help around here since Mother passed, there's no one else I'd choose as caretaker.”

“There's no need for flattery, Mr. Bilbo. Bein' caretaker for you is no trouble at all. I don't think any of us who live in The Hill would want Mrs. Camellia to be our landlord, and you know that's what would happen if you just up an left. I've already caught her and that young lass Lobelia Bracegirdle nosing about when you've been away to Waymoot and Frogmorton. They were traipsin' through the gardens, talkin' on how they're going to tear out the orchard to put in a rose garden, get rid of the bee skeps and chicken coop 'cause they don't want to get stung and they can't stand the smell of the hens” Holman shook his head, “Makes me wonder what their dinner table looks like with all they were goin' on about wanting to get rid of. From what they were whitterin' on about they would tear out all the plants and critters that we need for food and such and would put in things that need a whole lot o' care and upkeep and do nothing but look pretty.”

“Well, I've tried to make sure that will never happen.” Bilbo explained, “I put in my will that since Bag End was my Mother's Dower House it will go back into Took hands to be part of the dowery for the eldest living daughter of my Mother's sisters. In the event that neither of them have a living daughter, then it will become part of the dowery of the oldest unwed daughter of their brothers' children and heirs.”

Holman chewed on the end of his pipe as he thought through what Bilbo said, then nodded, “Good, that will put a spike in Mrs. Camellia's wheel, not that I mean your Aunt any harm, but...”

“No worries Holman, I know just what you mean.” Bilbo answered with a chuckle, “I'm going down to the Shirriff's Yard, today's a sparring and practice day. Then I'm meeting Bofur at the Inn for Luncheon. I'll bring his pack and gear back to Bag End and maybe I'll start on clearing out that unfinished room I've been using as storage this afternoon.”

“Sound's like you've got a full day planned Mr. Bilbo.” Holman commented as he picked up a turning fork and went back to working compost into his vegetable patch.

Bilbo ducked back inside Bag End to pick up his jacket, Longcoat, pack and quarterstaff. He put everything on before hiking back down the Hill into Hobbiton and making his way to the yard where the younger Shirriffs and Bounders were setting up to practice. While many of the others sparred in their shirtsleeves, Bilbo tried to train as often as he could in his full kit, knowing full well that an attack on the road rarely gave you time to shed your pack or coat. The first few times Bilbo had shown up at the yard wearing all his gear the others had laughed, and Bilbo admittedly made quite a fool of himself, but it didn't take long for him to make an impression on the others as he adjusted his kit so it didn't hinder his movements too much and he started scoring against his opponents. Soon the other Bounders started to mimic him as they realized how he was training made a lot of sense.

The sparring yard was close to the market and it was quite common for the low fences that surrounded it to be lined with curious onlookers of all ages. Many of the older watchers regularly placed bets on the outcome of the matches and Bilbo could see a steady flow of coin changing hands. Bilbo was pleased to receive a good number of cheers at his arrival, and he saw an upswing in bets being made as he unslung his quarterstaff. A couple of Bounders waved him over and Bilbo grinned at the challenge of working out two on one. While they kept their bouts friendly, they didn't pull their blows, and the sharp 'click-clack' of their strikes cracked through the air. Mid-morning the Shirriffs and Bounders wrapped up their practice with quarterstaffs and set up targets for work with bows and slings. The targets were set up against a solid wall that edged one side of the yard, the wall was part of the Shirriff's building and had been built for this purpose. It was made from three layers of brick with gravel and sand packed between the layers, then the side facing the yard was clad in thick wood planks, which could be replaced when they became too battered or split.

After a bite to eat and some tea, or ale depending on preference, the Hobbits who were practicing with bow or sling lined up for their first casts or shots. Bilbo noticed Bofur standing at the fence among the spectators, having wandered over sometime while Bilbo had been sparring. Coins were changing hands again as wagers were placed on who would have the best shot, or split the most targets. Bilbo grinned to himself, he doubted Bofur had ever seen anyone wield a sling like his and the other Hobbits, if what Ori carried was standard for Dwarves. Quickly lining up his shot, Bilbo made his first cast which impacted almost dead center on his target. The shot he was using for practice was made from a combination of sand, ash and unfired clay, so it shattered on impact marking the target with a smudge of black. Other slingers used shot that marked the targets, or wall in some cases, with other colors to allow the spectators and participants to track the shots and keep score.

Several times as he practiced, Bilbo heard exclamations of amazement and appreciation from Bofur as his casts continued to be good. Near the end of the morning the scores were tied among the slingers, with Bilbo and an older Bounder, Freddy Tillman, in the lead. Some of the spectators began to clamor for hard shot to test the strength of their casts. The head Shirriff finally agreed to allow hard shot for the final five casts, knowing that he'd end up replacing some of the targets before they were done. Bilbo and Freddy lined up their shots and let their stones fly. Both targets cracked and splintered as the shots hit home and Bilbo was pleased to hear Bofur's startled yelp as the targets fell to pieces.

At the end of five casts, Freddy edged out a win over Bilbo, but complemented him for his accuracy, commenting that it looked like he really earned the fox tail which hung from his coat. Bilbo laughed and replied that he'd even tanned it himself which got an “As you should do!” from Freddy. The morning practice soon came to a close and Bilbo hiked back up to Bag End to drop off his kit and freshen up before joining Bofur at the Green Dragon for Luncheon.

Bofur had a tankard of ale waiting for Bilbo as he arrived at the Inn, “That was some fine work I saw this morning. How long have you been sparring?”

“Not that long, it's something I've been picking back up from my youth.” Bilbo said with a shrug, “I've been doing a bit of traveling about The Shire this past winter, and that always goes smoother when you're confident of your own skills.”

“I never thought Hobbits were much for travelin'.”

“Outside The Shire? No, I don't expect you'll run across many Hobbits venturing much beyond Bree, but inside you'll find plenty of 'visiting' between families and such.” Bilbo allowed, “I've been going around collecting recipes for what's becoming a series of books I plan to write, so within The Shire I'm possibly one of the best traveled Hobbits you'll find, outside of the Bounders.”

“Bounders, who're they?”

“The Bounders are The Shire border patrol. They go about the edges of The Shire, and along the main roads, watching for trouble, helping the town Shirriffs keep the peace, and lending aid when a farmer is having problems with larger pests like foxes, or wolves.”

“You're not a Bounder are ye?”

“No, I thought about it for a while when I was younger, but after the Fell Winter of 2911 I lost interest in it.”

“So why was that fella going on about the fox tail on your coat?”

“Oh, I helped a couple of Bounders deal with a fox who was raiding chicken coops over in Buckland. Since I was the one who killed the fox, I got to keep the tail. They taught me how to skin and preserve the hide on that trip as well.”

Bofur nodded, “I take it you killed the critter with that sling of yours?”

“Yes, that's why Freddy was commenting about it. Among the Bounders having a fox or wolf's tail on your pack or coat is a sign of a good marksman and hunter.”

“I can imagine,” Bofur agreed. “Those stones you were throwin' at the end did more damage to the targets than the arrows. I certainly wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of something like that.”

“True, a sling thrown stone can kill a man easy enough, and they're easier to carry than a bow.”

“Think you could teach me how to use one?” Bofur asked

“I can try... It does take a bit of skill and a lot of practice before you can hit a target regularly.” Bilbo agreed, “However, I'm certain that I can at least teach you how to braid your own sling, and it's not like small stones to practice with are hard to find.”

Bofur grinned as the server brought over a couple of plates with shepherd's pie, mushy peas and a crusty roll for their luncheon. She also mentioned that there was apple pie for afters if they wished. Once they had made considerable progress on their meals Bofur raised the question of if Bilbo had ever considered traveling outside of The Shire, further than Bree. Catching the curious and somewhat disapproving looks on the faces of the other Hobbits, Bilbo considered dismissing Bofur's question outright, but thought it might be better to give his neighbors a little forewarning of his upcoming plans.

“It has crossed my mind. Especially after my treks to collect recipes. I quite liked going about, just to see what was on the other side of a hill or patch of forest. Traveling with the Bounders was an eye opening experience and I certainly learned a lot from them. I don't expect that I'd go anywhere by myself... From what I've seen the lands outside of The Shire are a bit too rough for me to tackle alone. I might consider going on a journey with a group if it caught my interest.” Bilbo answered aloud while flashing his fingers through the Inglishmêk hand signs for 'not here' to Bofur. Poor Bofur choked on his ale and needed several thumps on his back to clear his throat. Several of the other Hobbits present asked if Bofur was okay, to which he nodded and rasped out, “'m fine, just wen' down the wrong pipe.” The server brought over a tankard of water and told Bofur to drink it slowly in small swallows until his throat felt better. Bilbo leaned close to Bofur as he checked to make sure the Dwarf was recovering and whispered, “Traveling abroad is an uncomfortable topic for most Hobbits. We can talk more tonight at Bag End, and you can tell me then about the real reason I believe you came all the way to Hobbiton from Thorin's Hall.”

Bofur nodded as he sipped at his tankard of water, not quite sure of what lay ahead, but extremely curious about what might be revealed.

Once they finished their meal Bofur gathered his pack and settled bill with the innkeeper before returning to the market, while Bilbo took his things up to Bag End. At the end of the afternoon Bofur closed up his stall for the night and climbed up the lane to Bag End. Remembering Bilbo's request of the previous evening he sat on the bench beside the door and shed his boots and socks before knocking on the round green door. Bilbo welcomed him with a wide smile as he saw Bofur's boots in his hand, ready to be set in the boot tray in the entry hall.

“Come in, come in! I see you remembered what I said about boots.” Bilbo chattered as he swung the door wide. “You've got excellent timing, I was just about finished with putting together a bite of supper. It's not much, a little ham with roasted vegetables and some bread I baked yesterday. You'll be wanting a mug of ale I suppose?”

Bofur started to laugh, “Aye, please. It's been hard to say no to all the food you folks here keep offerin'. If I don't watch out I'll end up as round as my brother! It's like every day is a feast day around here.”

“Ha, and you haven't been here for any of our real festivals. Can't imagine what you'd make of them. One thing Hobbits are blessed, or possibly cursed, with are very healthy appetites and a desire to be rather plump around the middle. Thankfully The Shire provides well and there have only been a few times of hardship since we've settled here.” Bilbo replied as he sat Bofur down at the table and fixed him a plate. “I don't suppose life is the same in Thorin's Hall, is it.”

“No it isn't, while most families get by well enough there aren't a lot of luxuries there and winters tend to be long and lean,” Bofur explained. “It's been more than an age since Dwarves in Ered Luin could be considered wealthy. The range has supported clans of Dwarves since the First Age and most of her resources have been found. Lately there's been some discussion about looking back to some of the Dwarf Holds which were lost, to see if there may be hope of reclaiming them.”

“And are there plans to investigate any of these former Holds?”

“Aye, the leader of my Clan, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thrór King Under the Mountain is planning an expedition to see if there is some way to recover the Dwarf Hold of Erebor from Smaug the Terrible, who drove the line of Durin from the Mountain over a hundred years ago.”

“Smaug the Terrible?” Bilbo asked, curious to hear how Bofur would describe the dragon this time. He remembered how Bofur's words last time were those of a tale teller who wanted to shock his audience, naming Smaug 'The Chieftest and Worst Calamity of our age', with claws like razors, teeth like swords. Telling a rather shocked and overwhelmed Hobbit that the beast's fire filled breath would melt the flesh from his bones quicker than blinking and to imagine Smaug as 'A furnace, with wings'.

“A Fire Drake, he came down from the Northern Wastes, beyond Ered Mithrin, drawn by the wealth of Erebor. I've heard that Smaug is the oldest, mightiest and last of his kind. That only the fantastic wealth of Erebor could satisfy his greed for gold. Smaug's taking of Erebor was a calamity for the line of Durin.”

“Were you there?”

“No, I was born in Thorin's Hall once Durin's folk settled in Ered Luin. This was after they'd finished wandering Dunland and the battle of Azanulibizar which ended the nine years of war against the Orcs along the range of the Misty Mountains. Only the oldest folks in Thorin's Hall have memories of living in Erebor, but we've all heard stories.” Bofur admitted.

“Are you planning on joining Thorin on his expedition?”

“Aye I am, if only for the possibility of seeing Erebor for myself. Although if we find a way to kick out Smaug, I'd never have to worry about my brother's family going hungry again.”

“Your brother's family?”

“I've got seven nieces and nephews thanks to Bombur and his wife,” Bofur said with pride.

“That's quite a large family for what I know of Dwarves.”

“True enough, most couples only have two or three children, but there are a small number of families in Thorin's Hall with four or five little ones. My cousin tells me life in Thorin's Hall is an improvement over when the Clan wandered Dunland after Smaug.”

“So would you consider Thorin's Hall home?”

“Well... It is where I was born... But you know how I told you about hearing the rock and stone?” Bofur asked and Bilbo nodded, “The stone of Ered Luin is old, very old, and she can't support us Dwarves for much longer. Every year the mines need to go deeper and get harder to work. The roots of Ered Luin were fractured at the end of the First Age, when the Valar sank Beleriand at the end of the War of Wrath, so deep mines there are wet and hard to keep safe.” Bofur explained, “As much as I'd like to call Ered Luin home, there are more and more times when if feels like she's pushing us away... The stone in your cellar felt more alive and welcoming than what I've felt from Ered Luin lately.” The look on Bofur's face was faintly puzzled, as if it had taken Bilbo's question for him to think about what he knew and to consider how he felt about living in Thorin's Hall.

“That's twice now you've spoken about feeling things from stone. At first I thought you meant that you grew uncomfortable simply because you were away from mountains that reminded you of home, but now I'm thinking that you mean something very different.” Bilbo mused.

Bofur returned a shrewd look, “You remember when I asked you what you knew about the nature of Dwarves, and you replied by telling me about us knowing our way underground and such? Well for some Dwarves there's more to it. There's an ability we call Stonetalking and if you have it, well then rock and stone have a whole lot more to say.”

“Does it actually speak?” Bilbo asked curious.

“It's more an impression or feeling over actual sound, but a Stonetalker can tell good rock from bad, can feel the paths of veins of ore, can find pockets of precious gems, can tell if a spring of water surrounded by rock is safe to drink, and can find caves and passages underground.” Bofur tried to explain.

“So are you a Stonetalker?”

“I am, it's part of why I was so troubled yestereve, the stone around here is so deep under the surface it's hard to feel, and it had been more than a fortnight since I had rock under me.”

“Well, I'm glad I could help,” Bilbo answered with a smile.

“Now, I've got a question or two for you Mr. Baggins... How did you learn to sign in Inglishmêk?”

“Hm, I'm not sure you'll believe me, but your cousin Bifur taught me as we journeyed to Erebor.”

Bofur blinked and stared at Bilbo for several minutes as he tried to wrap his mind around the idea that it appeared that Thorin was not the only one sent back to journey to Erebor for a second time, “So...You already know that a group of Dwarves are planning on joining you for tea on the twenty fourth of this month?”

Bilbo nodded, “Yes, I started stocking the pantry last Fall in expectation of hosting a party of hungry Dwarves around then.”

“Did Tharkûn... I mean Gandalf, give you any news of the expedition?” Bofur asked, his mind still spinning.

“Gandalf hasn't been seen in these parts since my Grandfather Gerontius 'The Old Took' passed on twenty one years ago.” Bilbo answered then continued, “If things go like last time, the first I'll hear of the expedition from Gandalf will be the morning of the day before everyone arrives.”

Bofur spluttered, “Tha's a 'orrible thing to do!”

“It is, and last time I made far from the best impression.” Bilbo agreed, “I was hardly what you'd call prepared. When the first of the party arrived I was just settling down for an evening alone. I'd only made a spot of tea for one and I was relaxing in my dressing gown.”

Bofur grinned, “Who was first?”

Bilbo sat up straighter at the table and crossed his arms, trying to give an impression of Dwalin's stern demeanor as he voiced in a low growl, “Dwalin, at your service!”

Bofur snorted, “O' course! It would be him. Dwalin is head of the Town Guard at Thorin's Hall, he'd want to make sure your house and food were safe before Thorin arrived.”

“Well he did that, barged right in dropping his cloak and axes into my arms, sat at my table eating all I'd prepared for tea and demanding ale.” Bilbo said with a shake of his head, “He had me so stunned and going in circles, I was tripping over my feet by the time the others arrived... Then it became pure madness. Dwarves everywhere, making themselves right at home, moving the furniture, raiding the pantry, making tea in the kitchen and pulling up kegs of ale from the cellar. Clomping all over the place in heavy mud caked boots. Kíli was bold enough to scrape the mud from his boots using my Mother's Glory Box! I felt like I'd been overrun by a pack of wild beasts.”

Bofur shook his head and growled deep in his chest, “Now, handing weapons and cloaks to your host... That's a sign of trust and respect... Movin' the furniture and pullin' food from the pantry? Probably thought they were bein' helpful... But wipin' their boots on the furniture? Lad knows better... Dís would have whupped his hide raw if she'd found out.”

“Dís? That's Fíli and Kíli's mother, right?” Bilbo asked.

“Aye, she's Thorin's younger sister.” Bofur agreed, “Thorin'll leave her in charge at the Hall when he comes. So... other than that poor start, how'd things go?”

“Having that evening meal as my first exposure to a Dwarven feast... With everyone being quite merry at finding stores of food in my pantry and plenty of ale?” Bilbo explained with a wry tilt to his lips, “I'll leave you to imagine what it may have been like. At the end of it my pantry was bare, there was ale, bits of food and mud all over the floors... The bath was in complete shambles, and my rugs were never the same.”

“Ooo... Ah, I take it things could have been better.” Bofur answered with shame coloring his voice, “So... after that... what made you decide to sign on?”

“I blame a momentary lapse of reason, and my Mother's Took ancestry.” Bilbo sighed as he took a sip of ale from his mug, “But it was the stubbornness of my Baggins side that kept me with the Company to the end. Once a Baggins commits themselves to a venture, you can be sure they'll be with you to the bitter end.”

“Well, part o' why I'm here was to warn you about the arrangements Tharkûn made with Thorin in Lunehurst at the beginnin' of March. The Wizard told us you'd be willin' to hire on, even provided a map to your home, and arranged for us to meet here on April twenty fourth. Thorin agreed, but had some doubts that Tharkûn had spoken to you... See, it turns out that he's made this journey to Erebor before as well, and he remembers how shocked you were by the Company's arrival.”

“I'd wondered if something like that was happening when I saw you stay while the rest of the merchants continued on... So Thorin is getting a second chance? That will probably improve our chances, but only if he learned a thing or two from last time...” Bilbo mused.

“Well I can't rightly say one way or another.” Bofur admitted, “I've only gotten to know him well since the middle of February when he discovered that he's got the Stonetalker gift.”

“Thorin's a Stonetalker? That's new, are there any others in the Company?”

“Aye, my cousin Bifur. I'm sure he won't let Thorin travel this far without another 'talker in the group. Thorin's talent is too young, he's still learning the basics.”

“Hm, I was planning on offering Thorin the best guest room, it looks out over the garden, but he might be more comfortable in one of the inside bedrooms. I've got a room on that side of the hall that's currently unfinished. I've been using it as storage, but I've been meaning to clear it out. Think that between the two of us we might make it a proper guest room before they arrive?”

“Should take a look at the bath first, from what you said earlier. Then we can see what all needs to be done.” Bofur replied thoughtfully, “I don't have much experience working with pipes... but as long as it isn't too complicated I can come up with something.”

“For the bath it's mostly the drains. They need a good cleaning out before they can handle a group as large as the Company. With everyone arriving like they did, I hadn't had any time to get them reamed out. It was a task on my spring cleaning list, to schedule it for the beginning of May.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I can help you get ready, and answer any questions about what you might expect from the group I suppose.”

“Good, now one last thing.” Bilbo started with a growing smile, “I don't want to let on to Gandalf that I've been warned about the arrival of the Company. He'll know something's up if he sees you in town, so I think that it would be best for you to set out a few days before the twenty third to see if you can join up with the others. That should keep the Wizard in the dark and let you teach the others a bit about Hobbit expectations of courtesy and decorum.”

Bofur nodded, a matching smile on his face, “Sure I can do that. Tharkûn won't see that you've made ready?”

“No, I only spoke to him out in the front yard.” Bilbo answered as he remembered that conversation.

Bofur snapped his fingers, “That's something! I know one thing that I can add to your doorstep that will help the others keep things a bit more tidy, and won't look too out of place... I might not be able to convince the others to shed their boots before coming in, but I can build you a boot brush, which will help keep the dirt and mud outside where it belongs.”

“Anything you can do about that would be welcome!” Bilbo replied as he lifted his mug.

Toasting their remaining ale Bilbo and Bofur shared a conspiratorial grin, they had a plan.

With less than a week until Bofur needed to leave Hobbiton to find Thorin and Company, Bag End erupted into a flurry of activity. Bilbo drafted Holman into the plan first thing, but they soon discovered that Bilbo's ambitious plans for cleaning out some of the old clutter, fixing up the unfinished room into a guest room, clearing the drains, upgrading the bath, and baking a hefty supply of waybread and honey cakes, were a bit much for the three of them. Bofur cleared out his stall in the market, closing it down as his stock had dwindled to a handful of items, and moved to putting in long hours at the tasks assigned by Bilbo and Holman. He cheerfully commented that it was nice to have a challenge to both his mind and body before setting out on their journey.

As time passed, it was Holman who suggested a solution to their rapidly mounting lack of time, “Mr. Bilbo, why not ask some of them Bounders or Sheriffs to lend a hand? You get along well enough with those lads, and I'm sure they'd appreciate knowin' about the waybread and honey cakes you've been makin'.”

“Holman that is a capital idea!” Bilbo declared as he pulled another tray of waybread from the oven. “I'll finish up this batch and go see who might be around down at the Yard.”

By late morning Bilbo had enticed a crew of eight Bounders and Sheriffs to lend a hand in trade for his recipes for waybread and honey cakes. With the added help they flew through the work, getting Bag End cleaned and ready for guests, several of whom could be counted as royalty. On the evening before Bofur was to set out to find Thorin and Company, Bilbo held a small party for everyone who helped. Mostly to thank the Bounders and Sheriffs, but also to give Bofur a taste of Hobbit merriment and party manners.

After Bofur had left the following morning, in the company of a pair of Bounders setting out on patrol, Bilbo and Holman tidied up the remains from the small party and settled into a show of bucolic idleness. Bilbo had spoken to the Bounders and Sheriffs in Hobbiton on his plans to keep Gandalf in the dark concerning his knowledge about the approaching party of Dwarves. He also let them know that the unusually large party was expected, and meant no harm to The Shire. Because of his new history with the Bounders and Sheriffs, Bilbo had a greater appreciation for their work and a realization that last time a good portion of how smoothly their journey from Hobbiton to Bree passed could be attributed to their constant efforts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of fun to get the party on the road -- FINALY!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I'm not planning to make 'relationships' too much of a thing in this tale I do want to take a moment to mention that I subscribe to the idea that Dwarves, Hobbits, and Elves are not MEN (meaning Human) and it is possible that the sexual designations of Male and Female may not be either adequate nor easily apparent. So, a 'female' Dwarf may very well be bearded.

Thorin heard the commotion at the training grounds long before he arrived.

“No! I Won't Have It! You're Too Young To Be Going Off On Some Mad Quest!” Thorin heard Dori's voice ring across the yard followed no less loudly by Ori's “I'm An Adult! Able To Make My Own Decisions! This Is For My Apprenticeship Dori, When I Come Back I'll Be A Chronicler!”

“I Don't Care! I Let You Apprentice With Balin To Keep You Safe! Scribes Are Supposed To Stay In The Library!”

“No They're Not! I Want To Be More Than Just A Scrivener Copying Down Old Stories And Records! I Want To Be A Scribe Like They Used To Be! A Chronicler Who Records History As It Happens! Thorin Said He Would Take Volunteers Over The Age Of Majority! I'll Be Ninety One This Year!”

As Thorin came into view of the training ground, he found Fíli, Kíli, Balin, Dwalin and Nori standing off to one side. Watching as Dori and Ori danced around the yard, Dori making grabs for Ori's pack and Ori evading while both Dwarrow continued arguing loudly. Thorin stepped up next to the watching group and asked, “How long has this been going on?”

“Oh, about a quarter hour. They've started to repeat themselves.” Balin observed.

“Ori's footwork is good, but he isn't aggressive enough. Dori needs to work on stamina and quickness.” Dwalin offered.

“Sometimes you just have to let Dori bluster.” Nori said sagely, “She won't listen until she's blown herself out.”

Thorin nodded, remembering a couple of instances from the last time they journeyed to Erebor. None of those instances were quite like this, but then last time he hadn't paid as close attention to the members of his company. Even before they set out his mind had been turning to the treasures of Erebor and what he would do once he possessed the Arkenstone. Thorin closed his eyes and shuddered at feeling the ghostly sensation of madness which rose with those memories, but he forced him self to accept that he'd been obsessed and angry the first time he'd journeyed to Erebor and it had caused him nothing but trouble. In his heart he thanked Mahal again for ridding him of the taint of Dragon Sickness and allowing him this second chance. 

Coming back to the present Thorin heard Ori exclaim, “Well If You're Going To Be That Worried About It! Then Come Along With Us!”

“Maybe I Will!” Dori shouted.

“You Do That!” Ori shot back.

“Good!” Dori barked back with a jerky nod, then turned and stormed off the field.

Next to Thorin, Nori let out a sigh, “Better go find my pack, and make sure Dori doesn't try to bring along nothing but tea.”

“Who asked you to come?” Dwalin asked.

“Well, Balin wants Ori along and Dori just agreed that the only way she'd let him go is if she comes along. Unless you want to deal with her fretting and carrying on for the entire journey to Erebor then I'll be joining you as well.” Nori explained.

Dwalin huffed, but nodded, “Least ways I know you won't load your pack down with tea and frippery.”

Nori smirked and gave Dwalin a two finger salute before sauntering from the yard. Thorin blinked and stared at Dwalin, wondering how he could have missed the apparent interest between Dwalin and the Dwarrow who'd earned a reputation for picking locks and having sticky fingers.

“So... You and Nori?” Thorin asked, giving Dwalin a look from the corner of his eye.

“Ya, I know... Guardsman and the Thief... Sounds like a bad romance tale.” Dwalin answered with a shrug, “But we fit together... Nori completes me.”

“Close enough you'll put up with Dori's mother-henning,” Balin needled. “Don't think I didn't catch you having tea in their kitchen when I stopped by to ask Ori about that research I had him doing on the Company's Contract.”

Color rose in Dwalin's cheeks as he socked Balin on the shoulder, “Not so loud, we've not told Dori yet. I'm sort of hoping that having them on this quest will help Dori get over her obsession for keeping both Nori and Ori swaddled in cotton and tucked away from the world.”

Thorin found he had to blink again and mentally pick his jaw up from the ground. While he'd always trusted in Balin's intelligence, strategy and planning, Thorin found it hard to remember that Dwalin was just as intelligent, he just chose to use his intelligence and skills as a warrior and guardsman rather than being a politician and advisor. Thorin wondered if what he just witnessed was anything like what had happened before, but realized that he'd never know. He would just have to be satisfied that it looked like he'd managed to gather the Company back together in enough time to work out a few of the kinks he remembered from last time. As that included making sure that everyone packed appropriately he turned to Kíli and Fíli, “Alright lads, let's see what you've put together as travel kits. Dwalin, you can help. I want everyone to carry anything vital on their person. Pack light and leave plenty of room for food and water. Be sure everyone has a good bedroll and foul weather gear.”

“Ah, so basic campaign set up?” Dwalin asked.

Thorin nodded, “You've got it. While we are going to engage in trade negotiations and diplomacy as we travel, that's no reason to forget the dangers we will face on the road, nor that in all likelihood we'll be facing Smaug when we reach Erebor.”

Dwalin gave a firm nod and moved to check Kíli's pack while Thorin checked Fíli's. Overall what Thorin's nephews packed was appropriate, but both of them forgot their foul weather gear and had packed too many clothes. Balin and Dwalin's packs were fine, as was Nori's, but everyone else who showed up to have their gear checked would need to rework what they were taking along. Bifur had packed most of his woodworking tools. Bombur had almost an entire kitchen's worth of utensils, but no clothes. Glóin had a lockbox and accounting ledger. Óin packed enough medical supplies to stock a field hospital, plus all of his apothecary equipment. Ori needed foul weather gear and a bedroll, while Dori had included a fine china teapot and set of cups. Thorin knew what he planned on taking and agreed to have Dwalin check it before the company departed. The only member of the Company who couldn't be included at this point was Bofur, as he'd already gone ahead to the Shire.

After all the packs had been gone through, with lists of necessary items and decisions made, Thorin decided that Óin should set up kits of medical supplies for each of them, in part to help disperse his load and in part to make sure that it couldn't be lost all at once. Since there was some daylight left, Dwalin called each member of the company up to put them through their paces and make notes about where they needed to improve their offense or defense. While Thorin remembered that the group had managed to deal with several skirmishes on the road, seeing how they struggled against Dwalin made him realize again just how much Mahal had been watching over them on their quest. The one good thing that came out of the late afternoon spar was that Dwalin made Ori try several hand weapons from the armory, to make sure he was armed with more than a pocket sling shot. After some trial and error, Ori found a good match with a modest warhammer, showing surprising strength for his size. At the end of the evening Thorin decided they needed daily practice sessions up to their departure.

\--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--

The morning of April fifth dawned bright and chill as the Company gathered at the docks. Packs were given a final once over, Fíli and Kíli having to run back for their foul weather gear before the party boarded the barges set for Bridgeport and Lunehurst. The Little Lune was still running high and fast, and the Bargemen were highly skilled, so they made excellent time on their run. At Lunehurst, Thorin sent Fíli and Dwalin with Glóin to deal with the horse traders. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long to acquire the sixteen ponies the party would need. While that was being done, Thorin had his hands full keeping the rest of the party from making unnecessary purchases. It took a surprising number of reminders that they were not expecting to head back to Thorin's Hall anytime soon to keep Kíli Dori and Bombur from picking up 'Just a little something', which more often than not wasn't 'little' at all.

Thorin was thrilled when they were finally able to leave Lunehurst. By his estimate it would take ten days to reach Hobbiton in the Shire if they travelled at a gentle pace and the weather remained favorable. They were fortunate in being able to travel with a merchant caravan bound for Bree, Tharbad and Dunland along the Greenway, which made the evenings merry and increased the security of the night watches. Dwalin took advantage of their mixed company to arrange some evening sparring with the caravan guards to continue the work begun in Thorn's Hall, bringing the group together into a unit that could rely on each other. One unexpected benefit of having plenty of time to reach Hobbiton was the improvement in many of the company's riding skills. Since they didn't feel rushed Thorin found that they took more time in making sure that the ponies were properly tacked and loaded in the mornings, and cared for at the end of the day. While Thorin was sure similar care was taken the last time, they had been running on a much tighter schedule, and his mind had been focused on the end of the journey and his possession of the Arkenstone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialog in the scene between Bilbo and Gandalf is from the book "The Hobbit" by JRR Tolkien. 
> 
> Place Names:  
> Hithaeglir - Misty Mountains

The morning of Gandalf's arrival dawned bright and sunny, just as he remembered. The evening before Bilbo finished baking the last batch of waybread he'd planned, and stowed it with the other prepared packs of travel supplies in his third pantry. After Gandalf stopped by, Bilbo would start the preparations for the 'tea' he planned on serving tomorrow. With all of the practicing and training of the last few months, Bilbo found it difficult to slow down and relax to the point where Gandalf could find him enjoying a pipe of Old Toby on his front stoop. The early morning dragged by as Bilbo was filled with a nervous anticipation for coming events. As he puttered about, Bilbo came to the realization that he hadn't considered how he might be affected by seeing Dwarves he'd mourned standing alive and well on his doorstep once more. Bilbo hoped that having Fíli, Kíli, Balin, Ori and Thorin in his home wouldn't turn him into a sobbing mess, but until they arrived he wouldn't know. As he made his way to the door with his pipe and tobacco pouch in hand, Bilbo caught sight of his longcoat, pack and quarterstaff in the front hall. He nodded to himself, knowing that he was a far different Hobbit than the one Gandalf had sent pelting down the lane with nothing but the clothes on his back to join a company of Dwarves on a quest to best a dragon and win back a mountain. This time Bilbo had done all he could think of to prepare in the extra time gifted to him by the Valar, and he knew, with the information Bofur had shared about Thorin being returned as well, that he wouldn't be alone in his efforts to make the end of this adventure very different from the tragedy it was before. Were they to succeed in returning Erebor to a position of strength, without losing the Royal House of Durin, there would be greater hope against the rising darkness of Sauron, which loomed in the near future.

With thoughts turning to consider how best to use his knowledge of future events, and what Thorin's reaction would be to finding out that he'd been returned to the beginning as well, Bilbo found himself calming and settling into a quiet contemplation of the morning as he finally went out to his front porch, lighting his pipe and puffing smoke rings into the clear air. It was a perfect set up for Gandalf's arrival, and sure enough, as Bilbo gathered the morning mail and thought through the menu for the party one more time, his view of the sky was obscured by the sudden presence of a broad brimmed, pointy blue hat, sitting atop a grey haired, white bearded, grey clad, robe draped wizard, wearing huge black boots and bearing a long wooden staff.

Bilbo blinked at the change from sunlight to shade and smiled at the meddlesome old man standing before him. “Good Morning!” said Bilbo, and he meant it for it was a very nice clear day.

Gandalf peered at him from under his very impressive bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat.

“What do you mean?” he said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

“All of them at once,” said Bilbo. “And a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain. If you have a pipe about you, sit down and have a fill of mine! There's no hurry, we have all the day before us!” Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and blew out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that sailed up into the air without breaking and floated away over The Hill.

“Very pretty!” said Gandalf. “But I have no time to blow smoke-rings this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone.”

“I should think so – in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can't think what anybody sees in them,” said Bilbo as he stuck a thumb behind his braces and puffed on his pipe, blowing out an even bigger smoke ring. Keeping his pipe between his teeth in an effort to not burst out laughing, Bilbo pulled out his morning letters and began to read, pretending to take no more notice of the old man at his front gate. Just as Bilbo remembered, Gandalf didn't move, he stood leaning on his staff, gazing at Bilbo in silence. Bilbo allowed the silence to stretch for several minutes, for a moment he'd considered trying to outlast the Wizard, but then he realized that he'd get nothing done today if he followed that path. So after several minutes passed, Bilbo continued, trying to remember how irritated he'd been the first time around.

“Good morning!” he snapped. “We don't want any adventures here, thank you! You might try over The Hill or across The Water.”

“What a lot of things you do use Good morning for!” said Gandalf. “Now you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won't be good till I move off.”

“Not at all, not at all, my dear sir! Let me see, I don't think I know your name?”

“Yes, yes, my dear sir – and I do know your name Mr. Bilbo Baggins. And you do know my name, though you don't remember that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me! To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!”

“Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never came undone till ordered? Not the fellow who used to tell such wonderful tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of princesses and the unexpected luck of widow's sons? Not the man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve. Splendid! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening! Dear me!” Bilbo gushed and went on. “Not the Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures? Anything from climbing trees to visiting elves – or sailing in ships, sailing to other shores! Bless me, life used to be quite inter – I mean, you used to upset things badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had no idea you were still in business.”

“Where else should I be?” said the wizard. “All the same I am pleased to find you remember something about me. You seem to remember my fireworks kindly, at any rate, and that is not without hope. Indeed for your old grandfather Took's sake, and the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give you what you asked for.”

“I beg your pardon, I haven't asked for anything!”

“Yes, you have! Twice now. My pardon. I give it to you. In fact I will go so far as to send you on this adventure. Very amusing for me, very good for you – and profitable too, very likely, if you ever get over it.”

“Sorry! I don't want any adventures, thank you. Not today. Good morning! But please come to tea – any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Come tomorrow! Good bye!” With that Bilbo scuttled inside, shutting his round green door as quickly as he dared, not to seem rude. He hurried down the hall to the pantry before he couldn't contain his mirth, as he didn't want Gandalf to hear him laughing with pleasure on keeping the wizard in the dark about his foreknowledge of Thorin and the others arrival tomorrow.

\--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--oo--

Midday on the twenty second of April, the company was joined by Bofur, who they discovered having a picnic at the side of the road in the company of two Hobbits. The Hobbits were wearing clothing that was quite obviously made for travel and the outdoors, and was quite unlike anything Thorin expected to see. All evidence pointed to the pair of Hobbits being highly experienced and skilled travelers, and Thorin wondered why Gandalf recommended Mr. Baggins over Hobbits like the ones he saw before him. While Thorin was caught up in his contemplations, Bofur bid the pair of Hobbits farewell and before he had made it past the third wagon in the caravan the oddly dressed Hobbits had vanished into the surrounding countryside.

After being welcomed into the group by Bifur and Bombur, Bofur collected the pony Glóin had assigned to him. Once everything was adjusted and the various loads shifted, Bofur mounted up and steered his pony close to Thorin and Bifur.

“Who were those Hobbits?” Thorin asked, curious about what he'd seen.

“Oh, those were Freddy Tillman and Dale Millerson. They're Bounders, part of the Shire Border Patrol. They let me tag along when I said I was planning on meeting up with you.” Bofur answered.

“The Shire has a Border Patrol?” Balin asked, having overheard the exchange. “I never realized...”

“Well you wouldn't if you weren't causing any trouble.” Bofur explained, “Their job is to patrol, raise the alarm in case of invasion or wildfires, and to lend a hand to local farmers who are having trouble with occasional marauding foxes or wolves... I don't think much moves across the Shire unnoticed by the Bounders of Sheriffs.”

“Amazing... So, were you able to approach Mr. Baggins about our venture?” Thorin asked quietly.

Bofur nodded, “I was, and you were right in your thoughts about Tharkûn. It also seems that Tharkûn was right to suggest Mr. Baggins. I don't think you'd find another Hobbit in the Shire willing to sign on to the Company.”

“So he's already agreed?”

“More like he's willing to consider it,” Bofur hedged. “I couldn't provide an exact offer without a contract, so we decided to leave it at a verbal agreement of consideration until he sees an official contract.”

Thorin nodded, it looked like this time Mr. Baggins would at least be making a more informed decision.

That evening, once they'd set up camp, Dwalin ran Bofur through his paces to figure out his strengths and weaknesses, and develop a plan for improvement. When the training session was over Bofur collapsed on his bedroll with a bowl of stew and started sharing stories of his last few weeks spent in Hobbiton and what he'd learned of Hobbits. He spoke of their love of fine food and ale, while pointing out that they rarely spilled ale or crumbs on the floor, as it was considered disrespectful of your host and a sign of poor service or bad food. Bofur also commented on the fact that all the shops and the inn had polished wood or tile floors and that any Hobbit entering would wipe their feet on the doormat or remove their boots, which they only wore while mucking out stables or caring for pigs, on the porch to keep the mud and muck outside. Bofur also shared a few of the songs he'd learned from his evenings at the inn, much to the enjoyment of everyone as they were often quite silly and filled with nonsense.

The next morning the Company split from the caravan, leaving the East Road at Bywater and traveling North to Hobbiton. As dusk was falling they arrived in the yard at the Green Dragon Inn. Thorin instructed Glóin to arrange for lodgings for the company, and stabling for their ponies for the night. Taking a look around as the rest of the company unloaded their gear, Thorin spotted Gandalf's horse in a pasture off the stable yard and nodded to himself. Once the company settled their gear into the rooms they were assigned, they joined the gathering of Hobbits in the common room for an evening meal of lamb chops, roasted onions, potatoes and carrots, brown bread and mugs of rich red ale. Part way through the meal Gandalf approached the company and sat on an empty seat near Thorin.

“I'm pleased to see you've made it here safely.” Gandalf said with his head wreathed in pipe smoke.

“Did you doubt it?”

“No, not at all,” Gandalf assured. “Is this your entire party?”

Thorin nodded, “Everyone except for Mr. Baggins that you told me about. Does he know of our appointment tomorrow?”

“Yes, I spoke with him this morning,” Gandalf answered with a glint in his eye that Thorin could only interpret as private amusement. “He is quite looking forward to having you join him for supper.”

“So just myself and possibly Balin to go over our offer?” Thorin nudged.

“Oh, I'm quite sure the entire party would be welcome.” Gandalf said airily.

“Is Mr. Baggins aware of the size of the company?” Thorin asked. “I for one would not look kindly on anyone who brought a group this large along for supper uninvited.”

“Not to worry, not to worry Thorin. Bilbo is a consummate host, having you and your party over for tea and supper will be no trouble at all.” Gandalf said with a wave of his hand, “He invited us all to tea at four o'clock tomorrow afternoon.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but answered, “Very well, we shall endeavor to appear at Mr. Baggins' home at four tomorrow afternoon.”

The rest of the evening Thorin's company enjoyed the hospitality of the Green Dragon, and the games and songs of the local Hobbits. After a few mugs of ale, some of the company were challenged to games of darts, skittles, and other pub games. The resulting competition gained Dwalin and the others invitations to train in the Sheriff's yard the following morning, should they find they were not too far into their cups. At that comment Dwalin answered back that “Any Dwarf who got too drunk to fight the following morning should willingly shave off their beards and go live with elves.” Which caused roars of disapproval from the Dwarves and confusion among the Hobbits. The comment also started a bit of a drinking competition with a goal of seeing just what it would take to keep the Dwarves off the practice field the next morning. Thorin sat to one side with Bifur, keeping an eye on the proceedings, but allowing the others to drink themselves into insensibility, 'enjoying' one of their last evenings in safe territory.

“(The bones of the Earth are deep here.)” Bifur commented quietly as he sipped at his mug.

“(Is that a problem?)”

“(Only if we stay here too long. Remember how you felt when we traveled from Bridgeport to Thorin's Hall after your Stonetalking talent woke?)”

“(Yes.)”

“(It will take longer since we're on land, but with the bones being so deep you'll start feeling their distance in a few days. As you learn to harness your skills, that sense will become sharper.)”

Thorin frowned, “(Do you think it will be bad?)”

“(No, we're traveling towards Hithaeglir, so we'll reach stone soon. Also, Bofur told me that the Hobbits live underground and that many homes here have cellars cut into bedrock. If we start feeling too uncomfortable, we could ask some of them for shelter for a night.)”

“(I'll keep that in mind.)” Thorin answered as he noticed events in the tap room were winding down as the Hobbits drifted out the door to stumble home and several of the younger Dwarves were snoring under the tables. With the help of Dwalin, Bifur, Dori, Óin and a couple of the innkeeper's sons, Thorin got the rest of the company to bed.

The following morning the group that gathered at the Sheriff's yard were decidedly bleary eyed and blinking, except for the few who either weren't at the Inn the night before, or had managed to remain relatively sober. Fíli, Kíli and Ori were acting decidedly tender as they emerged from the Inn into the bright sunlight of the morning. Dwalin simply scoffed and herded them to the yard where several Hobbits had started to warm up in preparation for their practice with quarterstaves, or hand to hand combat. Dwalin watched for a while before giving an approving nod at how the Hobbits focused on speed and agility, which were suitable for their small stature. It took a bit for the Hobbits working in the yard to consider sparring with the Dwarves, but once Dwalin took off his knuckle dusters and challenged several of the larger Hobbits to take him on in a friendly match, they all got involved. By the time they broke for a midday meal, the members of the Company were ready for a break and a chance to clean up before heading over to the home known as Bag End for tea.


	9. A Somewhat Expected Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Company is finally introduced to proper Hobbit hospitality, and Gandalf begins to have an inkling that he cannot work with Thorin and Company as he normally would.

Thorin considered the differences in this hike up to Bag End, as compared to the last time he'd climbed this hill on the path that led to Mr. Baggins' front door. Previously he'd been considerably later, traveling alone and had gotten turned about in the rolling hills of the Shire. The mere fact that the party had managed to arrive at Bag End on the same day last time was nothing short of divine intervention, now that Thorin thought about it. Last time the entire party had been assembled on the run, they had scattered to the winds to collect gear and supplies, only to meet back together at Bag End on that night at the end of April. Mahal must have truly had his eyes on them, or they never would have made it even this far considering just the normal hazards of the road. Giving his head a shake, Thorin continued to climb the steep path, bringing up the tail end of the line of Dwarves making their way to Bag End. After all there was no reason to change everything this time around, he was the last Dwarf to arrive the first time around, he would be the last to arrive this time as well.

Reaching the front yard of Bag End, Thorin had to chuckle at the scrum of Dwarves tangled up in their efforts to shed their heavy boots before the straight backed, stern faced form of Dwalin, who'd stationed himself at the door, barring entrance to any who hadn't shed their boots. As some of the Company's grumbling grew louder Dwalin quashed it with a few words, “Mr. Baggins has graciously offered us all lodgings for tonight, use of his bath, and has prepared us a feast. It is a small thing for him to ask that we not track dirt all over his floors.”

Thorin reached down to unclasp the buckles of his boots, glad that he'd made sure to put on clean socks that morning, and realizing that this time their welcome was decidedly different from last time, when they had met Bilbo at Bag End. Last time their arrival had been a complete shock to the poor Hobbit. This time it was quite obvious that Mr. Baggins was at least expecting them, and had managed to impress Dwalin with his hospitality. Entering the Hobbit's front hall he hung his hood on an empty peg and placed his boots in the waiting tray. At the end of the row of pegs stood a hall tree that was being called into service as a weapon rack, and Thorin was pleased to see that most of the Company's arms were resting there. He added his to the stack, then followed the sounds of appreciation he could hear coming from the dining room. Thorin entered to find a table groaning with plates and platters piled high with roasted meats, potatoes, onions, turnips, rutabagas, and carrots; bowls of chopped cabbage salad, cooked squash and candied yams; boards of fresh baked brown bread and slabs of rich cheese with sides of fruit preserves. In a corner of the room there was a racked keg of ale with a second standing ready and a small table with a tray of mugs.

As Thorin took in the sight of all the food, and the blinking amazement on the faces of the company, Bilbo bustled out of the kitchen wearing a flour dusted apron and wiping his hands on a towel. 

“Ah! Welcome, welcome all! Bilbo Baggins at your service! I apologize for not meeting you at the door, I was just putting the finishing touches on the pies I planned for dessert. Now, don't be shy, there's plenty for all. For those of you who wish I've got a pot of tea just about ready in the kitchen and a couple of bottles of wine I can fetch from the cellar. Just sing out.”

With that Bilbo ducked back into the kitchen and the Company fell upon the feast like a hoard of locusts. Thorin made sure to fill a plate for himself, remembering that the time before he'd had to make do with a bit of stew and a crust of bread due to his late arrival. As savory bites of roast lamb, caramelized onions and baked potatoes with sour cream crossed his tongue Thorin was awed by the previously unknown skill of the Company's burglar. From his position at the head of the table, Thorin was able to keep the proceedings down to a reasonably dull roar, but found it hard to hold back his laughter when Bilbo all but started the rowdy chorus that accompanied the clean up he'd only heard tales of previously.

Once the meal was over, the dishes washed, pans cleaned, table cleared, and everything put away, the Company settled in with pipes of fine tobacco provided by Bilbo. Gandalf produced the Dwarven map of the Lonely Mountain, and Balin presented the Company’s contract to Bilbo. Thorin held up his hand as Gandalf began to explain the map and the clues it held pointing to a secret entrance on the mountain’s flank, silencing the wizard as Bilbo read through the contract.

“Hold Tharkûn, I’d like to address any concerns of our Burglar before we cover what is contained in my Father’s map. For without Mr. Baggins’ agreement it won’t matter how we enter Erebor, the dragon will bring this quest to an abrupt end.”

Bilbo took his time reading through the parchment Balin handed to him. Remembering what was offered last time, this current offer was a huge improvement. While the rewards were still outrageously grand, the emphasis placed on compensation for injury and promised funerary arrangements were considerably reduced. Giving a thoughtful nod Bilbo spoke, “This is all quite straightforward, although I would like to know what provisions you have to provide me an escort home. The terms here are generous indeed, and when we succeed I’m sure to find the hospitality of the company to be unrivaled, yet just as Dwarves are most at home in their halls of stone, as a Hobbit my home is being surrounded by gently rolling hills, deep fields and quiet forests. I would find it most difficult to transport even a fraction of what you indicate will be the reward for this venture by myself. Not to mention what a target such a thing would paint on me in the eyes of any highwaymen, bandits or rogues.”

Thorin blinked, this wasn’t going at all as he’d recalled. In fact nothing in his memory about his first meeting with Mr. Baggins was matching up. While many of the changes he saw could be attributed to having sent Bofur ahead to approach the Hobbit, there were too many signs of thorough preparation for Thorin to ignore. Looking around he could see signs of Bilbo’s home being readied for a long absence, a stack of folded sheets sat atop a bookcase, waiting to be used to drape the furniture to protect it against dust, shelves were neatly organized, and much of the clutter that Thorin recalled was missing. Between this observation and Bilbo’s comments about the contract Thorin came to a sudden realization, he was not the only one sent back by the Gods for a second attempt to reclaim Erebor. He narrowed his eyes, peering at the smug looking Hobbit after allowing his gaze to move about the room, pausing on the most obvious signs in an effort to express his understanding. Bilbo returned his gaze, raised an eyebrow and winked, while a small smile danced across his face. Bilbo’s eyes flicked toward Gandalf and Thorin saw that the wizard looked noticeably curious and mildly confused over Bilbo’s response as well.

“Ah yes,” Balin began hesitantly, “considering the nature of our proposed venture, and the variables chance may bring us on the road, it may be wiser to negotiate a separate contract for your return journey once this one is complete.”

Bilbo hummed, “True enough. There are plenty of dangers outside the boarders of the Shire. No point in counting chickens before they’ve hatched, or coin before it lays in your strongbox, right?”

Glóin chuckled, nodding his head in agreement, “Wise words Master Baggins, but I’ve not yet heard if you’ll be joining us.”

Bilbo looked over the eager faces of the Dwarves gathered around his table and remembered just what this quest, founded on faded memories and dreams, meant to the Company as he caught Thorin’s eye to see him give a solemn nod. “Very well, I doubt you’ll find any other Hobbit in these parts willing to go, and my Mother’s family have always been considered to be scandalously adventuresome. Which I’m sure Gandalf had in mind when he brought your quest to my attention yesterday.”

Thorin whipped his head around to fix Tharkûn with a thunderous glare, “YESTERDAY! Are you saying Mr. Baggins, that this meddlesome wizard asked for your participation in this venture only yesterday?”

Bilbo frowned to himself as he went over his conversation with Gandalf from the previous morning in his head, realizing with a start that at no point had Gandalf actually asked if he’d be willing to go on this quest. He opened his mouth and hesitated, not wanting to spark any violence in what was thus far a pleasant evening, but he knew it was unwise to remain silent as the atmosphere in the dining room grew tense, “Well... Gandalf did stop by and told me that he was sending me on an adventure which could prove, in his words ‘Very amusing for me, very good for you – and profitable too’. Then I invited him to tea with plans to discuss the idea further. Were it not for Bofur’s visit earlier I might have found it difficult to provide a suitable meal for all of you.”

Thorin’s glare at the grey robed wizard darkened as the depth of Tharkûn's meddling came to light, “By Mahal! Were I not convinced that this may be our best chance to recover our home I would march this Company right back to Ered Luin! Tharkûn these ‘surprises’ and your closely held secrets could bring disaster upon us. When we spoke in Lunehurst you assured me that you had gained Mr. Baggins’ agreement to be part of the Company, yet the response I received from the anvil beneath my hand as you spoke begged me to question your words. So, I sent Bofur ahead as I returned to Thorin’s Hall to assemble the Company. I asked Bofur to approach Mr. Baggins to see if he might be willing to help us with our quest, and to help him prepare for our arrival today. It is fortunate indeed that we have been so well received by our most gracious host.”

“Response you received from the anvil?” Gandalf questioned as one of his bushy eyebrows rose, “You are a Stonetalker? I haven’t known of one in your line for many generations...”

Thorin nodded, “Aye, the last was well before my Grandfather. My talent woke as the ice broke in Thorin’s Hall this past spring. Bifur and Bofur have both been instrumental in teaching me how to harness my skill.”

Gandalf’s brow furrowed in thought, “I need to think on this and how it may impact your quest...”

“Think all you want, but know that I plan to continue unless you have an extremely convincing argument. Now, what did you want to tell us about this map?”

Gandalf focused back on the parchment on the table, “Ah right, well from the runes written here it tells of a secret door on the Western flank of the mountain, originally made for the use of the Royal Family as an emergency evacuation route.”

Thorin nodded, “Yes, it was the passage my Father and Grandfather took when they fled Smaug. Easy to find from inside the mountain, but from the outside it is hidden by the height of Dwarven stonework. Barred not only by cunning locks, but spells as well. Without the exact location only a Stonetalker would have a chance at discovering it, and without the key? There’s no one alive that could force it open.”

“Then it is a good thing that, along with this map, your Father entrusted me to pass along the key he wore upon his neck, isn’t it.” Gandalf replied as he withdrew a heavy key on a leather thong form an inner pocket of his robes.

“Again with your closely held secrets Tharkûn! You could have given me this information when we spoke in Lunehurst. It would have made it easier when I was recruiting members for the Company if I had known about this possible path.” Thorin snarled, “While I understand the necessity of secrets, once you start keeping them... you become possessive... unwilling to let them go... even when holding onto them will do more harm than good!”

Gandalf drew himself up, shadows gathering around him as his voice rumbled with power, “Do Not Presume To Judge Me! Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thrór! There are more forces moving in this world than you can see!”

Thorin thumped the table with a fist, “EXACTLY! I cannot see the world as you do, but I also don’t expect you to hear the stone beneath your feet as a Stonetalker can. What I do hope is that, just like I would tell you if a tunnel was unsafe, you would tell us if you had information that benefits our quest or might affect the safety of the Company!”

Thorin’s quick reply had Gandalf blinking and looking at the others gathered around Bilbo’s table. He saw that the other members of the Company were nodding in agreement with Thorin’s words which gave him pause.

“Being entrusted with knowledge, power, or abilities, greater, or different from those around you is a challenge. How you accept the burden of those gifts depends on what you decide to do with them. Do you resent how those things make you stand apart from your neighbors, or do you rejoice in how those things can be used to help your neighbors, increasing everyone’s personal success?” Bilbo offered sagely.

Gandalf blinked again, there was something going on here and he didn’t know what it was. From what he could tell the mystery appeared to center around Thorin and Bilbo, and there was a possibility that Bofur and Bifur knew part of the answer. However, the night was growing late and if they wanted to get very far they would need to start out early in the morning. Relighting his pipe, he savored a few mouthfuls of smoke before tapping the map with a finger, “Coming back to this, I believe there may be hidden information written on this map, which can only be read under certain conditions...”

Balin took up the parchment and looked at it closely, “Aye, there may be, but I do not have the skill to find or read it. Too many of our clan’s Master Scribes were lost when Erebor fell, their tomes and journals becoming part of Smaug’s hoard.”

Gandalf sighed, “Alas, while I can tell there are spells on this map, my knowledge lies in other areas. I know of only one person in this part of the world who could help us, and that is Elrond of Rivendell.”

Thorin closed his eyes, this would be the first real test of his resolve to follow Mahal’s will to not allow past injuries to his pride too much influence over decisions that could aid or harm the chances of success in their quest. He took a few moments to gather his thoughts, opening his eyes he took in the expectant gazes of his fellow Dwarves who knew his history and the past problems they faced with Thranduil and the elves of the Greenwood. “In my memory our clan have had no dealings with the Elves of Rivendell, and I believe that, just as we recognize differences between our own clans, there can be differences between the many settlements of Elves. We don’t expect Dwarves from an outside clan to agree with all of our decisions, or to follow our orders blindly. They have their own leaders, as we have ours. It is not too far fetched that other communities share similar structures. So, I believe it will be in the best interests of this Company to include a stop at Rivendell to consult Master Elrond about what he can tell us concerning this map, before we push over Hithaeglir. Also, it will be good to have a chance to restock supplies and such before we tackle the passes through those mountains and Rivendell lies right at their feet.”

“I have always found the Elves of Rivendell to be generous and gracious hosts. Common courtesy, respect, and good manners will take you far with them.” Gandalf commented.

Both Thorin and Bilbo found themselves smothering snorts as their minds replayed memories of the ‘last’ time the Company visited Rivendell. There was certainly room for improvement in all directions for that encounter. While Thorin never wanted to think ill of his God, he had to wonder if the beginnings of the inherent friction between Elves and Dwarves arose from the conflicts between Eru Ilúvatar and Mahal. It was certainly true that most meetings between their peoples degenerated into name calling and insults at some point, but Thorin was humble enough to admit that most long standing grudges between them could be traced to the stiff and unforgiving nature of Dwarves.

“How long has it been since any members of the Company have traveled the roads between here and Rivendell?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin turned to the company with questioning eyes and saw their subtle head shakes. Most, if not all, of the trade out of Thorin’s Hall focused on the markets of Bridgeport and Lunehurst. The small population of the hall and the scarcity of precious metals and gems in Ered Luin kept the scope of their interactions with the wider world restrained. There was no need to send goods or people far away when they could find supplies closer to home. A glance at Gandalf caught the wizard with a thoughtful expression on his face. Turning back to Bilbo he answered, “Too long, I’d guess. We haven’t had much need to travel even this far for several years. If you have any current maps or reports concerning our route, I’ll welcome them.”

“Let me get my maps from the study. In the morning we can check in with the Sheriff’s office, they’ll have the latest word from the Bounders. Also, if I may make a suggestion for our route? It is a little out of the way as we go East towards Bree, but if we can stop at Brandy Hall my Uncle and Cousins should have news about the road between the Brandywine River and Bree. There’s also a chance they’ll have news from the Rangers, which could tell us about conditions between Bree and Rivendell.”

“Rangers?” Thorin asked, unfamiliar with anyone who went by that name.

Bilbo shot a glance at Gandalf before explaining, “The Rangers are Men, highly skilled in woodcraft, hunting and tracking. I don not know their origins, but they live scattered throughout the wilds. I do not believe they are great in numbers, I’ve only met a few when I’ve traveled with the Bounders at the edges of the Shire. They are a quietly noble people, lending aid when they can.”

Thorin furrowed his brow in thought, he had no memories of these Rangers, but then last time he had been too focused on his own thoughts and his impression that Bilbo was far more like a greengrocer than someone who could survive the rough conditions of travel. “It would be good to have some sense of what we may face.”

Bilbo gave a nod and hopped up from his seat, heading to his study to retrieve his maps and the traveling scribe case he planned on gifting to Ori. Returning to the dining room he found the group quietly smoking and relaxing with pints of ale. Placing his burden on the table he smiled, “Here we go, I’ve got maps detailing the Shire, Buckland, and the road to Bree. I also found a spare traveling scribe kit, if any of you would be interested in helping me keep notes on our journey?”

Bilbo almost laughed at the eager expressions on both Balin and Ori’s faces as he placed the waxed leather case on the table. Sorting through the stack of scrolls he’d grabbed, Bilbo first unrolled his map of the Shire that included Buckland, then added one that covered the East Road form Whitefurrows to Bree. “If we’re not in any great hurry it should take us about ten days to travel from here to Bree, even if we stop at Brandy Hall in Buckland.”

“And from Bree to Rivendell?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo shrugged, he only vaguely remembered how long it took. Everyone had been so wet and miserable from traveling through a week of rain, losing packs and supplies at the washed out bridge over the river Hoarwell, then dealing with the trauma of their encounter with the mountain trolls, that his memory of the days blurred together.

Gandalf hummed, “If the roads are good, it is just over a hundred leagues.”

“So around twenty days,” Thorin mused, “or thirty days from here to Rivendell... I’d be happy to make it there in forty five with it still being this early in the year. Also there’s sure to be plenty of snow in the passes of Hithaeglir. I think we can give that a bit more time to melt.”

Around the table the Company gave agreeing nods, knowing all about the struggles of working or traveling in mountains heavy with snow.

Bilbo was suddenly caught by a yawn, “Oh my goodness, I beg your pardon everyone. It has been a long day for me and the hour is quite late. Please let me show you to your rooms, then I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, but if you are planning that we start in the morning I need to get some sleep. I’ve already planned a breakfast for everyone, and unless it’s an emergency we’ll not be welcome at the Sheriff’s office a the crack of dawn.”

Thorin raised a brow a the Hobbit’s veiled rebuke for his decision last time to have Bilbo ‘catch up’ at the Green Dragon, chivvying the company out of Bag End after a hurried breakfast, leaving chaos in their wake. He cringed slightly knowing he well deserved the gentle Hobbit’s ire. “Your hospitality has been most gracious Master Baggins, and I agree the hour is late. I believe I will be seeking my bed as well, once I’ve finished my pipe.”

Bilbo stood and beckoned them all to follow him as he led them deeper into Bag End, directing them to the rooms he’d prepared. Bidding them all a good night he retired to his room and was soon lulled to sleep by the rich voices of the Company singing of a home few of them had seen with their own eyes, yet all yearned for with their souls.

**Author's Note:**

> Added Towns:
> 
> THORIN'S HALL – Home of Thorin and Company before the adventures of The Hobbit. Located near the source of the Little Lune River, which on the map of Middle Earth provided with the Collector's edition of The Lord of The Rings begins just below the final letter in the word 'Ered' of 'Ered Luin' on the North West coast of the continent. 
> 
> Thorin's Hall is an above ground settlement made up of scattered log or sod cabins and small farms on the lower slopes of the Northern Range of Ered Luin (Blue Mountains), with mining, charcoaling and smelting operations for iron, copper, tin, and lead in the surrounding heights. There are only very small sources of silver and gold in this area as Ered Luin has supported settlements of Dwarves since the First Age. There is a central Keep in the shape of a Ring Fort protected by a deep rampart and stone palisade. Inside the walls there are three Longhouses and one Timber Keep made from split logs with thatch roofs. The Keep is used as a gathering place for the community, and has few permanent residents, primarily guards who protect the armory and treasury, and a few blacksmiths and armorers. There are several groupings of cabins and buildings between the keep and the docks on the Little Lune which form a central location for a market and other trade. Most transportation to and from Thorin's Hall is done by river barge and access to the settlement is very restricted once the river freezes in winter.
> 
> The Dwarves of Thorin's Hall survive on a trade of Pig Iron, Copper, Tin and Lead ingots traded further down the Lune River. There is also demand for worked iron, bronze and pewter items like farming implements, ship fittings, and flatware.
> 
> The population of Thorin's Hall is approximately 1,800. Just about the size of a small town of the middle ages, this makes Thorin's Company just under one percent of the population.
> 
> Thorin, Dís, Fíli and Kíli live in a cabin close to the entrance of the Keep.
> 
> BRIDGEPORT – Trade town located where the Little Lune flows into the Lune River. This is where the majority of trade supporting Thorin's Hall happens. The Dwarves bring their goods down the Little Lune on barges to trade for food and cloth.
> 
> LUNEHURST– Trade town located where the river from Emyn Uial (Hills of Evendim) flows into the Lune River. The Dwarves bring there goods here to trade for small quantities of coal and coke mined from the Emyn Uial to be used in their forges.
> 
> Lunehurst is also the location of the beginning of an overland route which connects to the Great North-South road which leads from Mithlond (Grey Havens) to Minas Tirith in Gondor.


End file.
